── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

What if dilf orc has a young child, the bearer of his child unfortunately passed away. Then he sees you. A plump soft human, a bit softer than the usual orc parent, but in his eyes your tenderness would be perfect for his youngling.

He begins to court you immediately. Always brushing past you to subtly scent you, bringing his sweet baby with him to try and sway your choices. Of course the little orc toddler immediately makes your heart melt, the way they waddle over to you curiously, the orc child despite being extremely young was already up to your waist.

If you give into his courting? Be prepared for princess treatment. Being carried everywhere by him as the new parent of his child. Of course you’d naturally gain a lot of muscle from being with him, due to an orcs typical rugged lifestyle and the fact that your new adopted orc toddler likes to be carried and coddled! How could you say no to such a chubby cute face? You’ll be carrying them a lot, and orc babies are HEAVY so yeah, prepare to get swoll.

But to compensate I can definitely see your orc dilf spouse making sure you get more than enough food, after all you’re burning way too many calories carrying his youngling around, and plus he needs to keep you squishy for optimal cuddles.

DILF orc always brings you home gifts from fights or battles, mainly skulls of his enemies (how charming 🥰) or maybe a whole deer, already cut up and prepared for you to cook, he’s very doting.

Imagine toji leaving the room after about 4 rounds and comes out with a full motorized scooter. “Y/n where the fuck did you hide my scooter, you know my legs are ancient artifacts these days.” @violxtbxbyy @kazushawty

I woke up in a new bugatti 👨🏽‍🦼💨💨💨💨

Repeat that for Daddy...

Okay, walk with me on this one: you and Toji are lying on the bed enjoying the acts of "coupling", and you accidentally call him "daddy"? Obviously, it was a slip-up in the heat of the moment, but unfortunately, it's Toji. He won't stop until you say what you just said.

A/n: I'm totally not writing this to compensate for the fact I haven't posted pt ii of the assassin duo toji x reader drabble yet :) Which tysm for 500+ notes btw!!! Please enjoy this while I finish that fic for y'all~~

Cw: dom! Toji x fem! reader - fingering (fem! receiving) - daddy kink (it's an awakening for Toji) - pet names (baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - praise - clitoral play (Toji pinches your clit bc he's a bastard) - pussy slaps (2x) - a bit of comedy.

Wc: 893

One of Toji's favorite things to do when you two are relaxing in the confines of your home is cuddling with you. It was a foreign thing you introduced to him in the early stages of your relationship, but now he likes to do it when the chance is present.

Having your body close to him tells him that you see him as a dependable figure and that you feel safe in his presence. Which he cherishes deeply. And it's a guilty pleasure when you let him have his hands roam your body.

And it's even more of a guilty pleasure when you let him play with your pussy.

The lewd sounds of Toji's fingers messing with your pussy and your ecstatic moans fill the bedroom, the television volume stationed low so he can focus on your face and expressions.

"Mmmm, Toji, A-Ahhh!."

He's lying on his side with his head resting on his hand, facing your squirming body with his forefinger and middle finger in your slit. You lay on your back next to him, gripping his shirt to the point his midriff shows.

"I'm here, baby," Toji kisses your forehead, trailing down to your neck and shoulder. "I'm right here."

He loves it when you're like this, being in this intimate space where you trust him to do as he pleases with your body. He wants to listen to your mewls and gasps because they're the sweetest sounds he's ever heard. Your watery, half-lidded eyes look up at him, the man who makes you appear so disarranged with his touch.

Toji loves moments like this, loves being with you, loves you.

"Feelin' good, darlin'?" He asks, kissing your collarbone where he'll definitely leave a mark for you to find later on. "You're doin' so well fr' me."

"Haaaaah, yes, yesss," you hiss, biting your bottom lip when Toji's thumb faintly brushes on your clit. His thick fingers scrape the velvety walls of your cunt at a lovingly slow pace that has you inching toward a climax.

"Oh God, Tojiii, I'm going to— Ahaaa!!" You're so close to coming, almost there. "I wanna cum on your fingers, Daddy..."

Toji's kisses are halted, his fingers freeze inside your slick-coated vulva, and even you stay still with wide eyes staring up at the bedroom ceiling. White noise from the television substitutes the silence.

Toji brings his face up to look at you, and your eyes move to the side, trying to find anything to look at except the deep forest green eyes drilling into your face.

"What did you say, sweetie?"

You act innocent. "Huh?"

Toji smirks. "If you can 'huh,' you can hear. You said somethin'. What did you say?

"Uhh, I said I wanna chow on some chicken fingers, darling."

"That's not what you said. And we ate two hours ago."

"T-True!" You squeak, squeezing around Toji"s digits. He raises a brow, his smirk still confidently plastered on his face. "But I know how much you have a big appetite, and who can say no to dinosaur-shaped nugge- Eyyaaah!!!"

It happened so quickly; Toji's fingers exit your tight opening and pinch your clitoris, applying pressure between his thumb and forefinger. The abrupt action has you screaming, and all Toji does is snicker.

"Don't play with me, sweetheart," he says to your ear in his guttural tone. A hearty laugh seethes through his lips when you jerk up from the impact of his hand slapping your pussy. You shed a single tear, and Toji snaps a mental picture. Another slap, another cry. "What's my new name, baby?"

"D-Daddy!!" You swallow the drool pooling in your mouth before choking on it. Pain stinging on the poor swollen lips of your vagina from the cruel treatment, your mind feels foggy. The feeling of regret clouds your thoughts, wondering why you let that word out. And worse, giving the title to a man with an ego bigger than anyone you've ever known. I should've kept my mouth shut...

But you can't deny the puddle that's leaking through your cunt.

Toji grins hard, his scar rooted upwards for his teeth to flash with the light coming from the TV. "Good girl." His fingers snake back into your folds, and you whimper into his touch as his digits go faster than before. "Can you call me that again, mama?"

"Mmmph!! Daddyyy, too fast, 's too fa— Oohhh!!" You grip his shirt again, finding support close to him. Your pants and breathing feel so heavy you nearly choke.

"Gonna cum, baby?" You nod rapidly. He loves when you're desperate. "Go ahead, cum on Daddy, darlin'." His thumb then moves directly to your clit, pushing and grinding down on it, and that was it for you.

You cream around his fingers, walls clenching down on him as your legs wobble in ecstasy. Tears stream down your eyes as you finish your orgasm.

Toji's fingers finally withdraw once your spasm ends, and strings of your fluids stick to him like honey. "Good job, mama," he puts the fingers in his mouth and licks them, deep groans as he's sucking in your essence. He then kisses your lips, giving you a taste of yourself as you exchange tongues.

Toji departs from your plump lips, cocking his head with a small smile. "You outta call me that more often, starting to like it."

This is so worth it \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

A Diplomatic Error

cw: enemies to lovers, kidnapping, being tied up, manhandling, size difference, non-human genitalia, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

male orc x fem reader

Word count: 9k

You were headed to another counsel meeting. You never really stopped attending them, despite the fact that they never listened to a word you had to say. 

Your father said it was good for morale. You didn’t understand how watching someone sit around and not help was good for anyone’s morale, but you knew better than to question him. 

The halls of the palace were quieter than you were used to. Almost everyone had been called to the front lines, even your closest guards had gone. You weren’t used to walking alone, nor were you accustomed to the typically lively castle looking like a ghost town. 

So now you walked through the castle halls, more alone than you’d ever been before, no one there to wait on you, to protect you, to watch over you. Something in you said it should have felt freeing. 

It didn’t. It just felt lonely. 

As you walked, moving slowly as you wallowed in self-indulgent pity between war meetings, a pair of hands reached out of nowhere, one snaking around your waist to pull you back into the shadows while the other clamped firmly over your mouth. 

When the guards had been sent away, you’d been assured that you’d be safe. It wouldn’t exactly be easy for a hulking orc to sneak in undetected. At least that's what you'd been told. With a massive hand that dwarfed your face locked over your mouth, suddenly the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous.

You thrashed under the figure's unwavering grip to no avail. He easily held you in place, barely needing to put any effort in to stop your desperate bid for an escape. 

You weren’t one for swooning but suddenly a faintness came over you. You reached up to grab at the only stable thing in reach, hands wrapping around the figure’s arm, trying to keep yourself upright. 

Your knees began to buckle and only then, mind slowed by whatever he’d dosed you with, did you begin to suspect foul play. Maybe something on his skin that humans were weak to, maybe something in the air. Was he holding a cloth? You didn’t think so. But then again, he seemed so far away not, even pressed up against you as he was.

You blinked your heavy eyes and when you opened them, you were thrown over a large shoulder. You watched the road behind you as the creature holding you strode along, still blind to what was ahead. His hand was wrapped around your waist, keeping you firmly in place, jostling you only slightly with each step. 

It took you a second to gather your bearings enough to start struggling. Once you did, you started pounding on his back. It was a futile gesture but you were nothing if not persistent. At the very least, he knew you were awake now. 

His shoulder shook under you as he chuckled. “Good morning, princess,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying across the road.

“Put me down, you brute!” you shouted, trying your best to kick your feet under heavy skirts. If you'd known you'd be getting kidnapped today, you'd have worn something lighter. 

He paused and for a moment you thought maybe he'd listen to you. But you knew better than that, knew you'd have no say in any of this.

“As you wish.”

Your feet were planted on the ground, although he still had a heavy arm on your shoulder, holding you in place. A silent promise: you weren't going anywhere. 

You whipped around, eager to see what was in front of you instead of the increasingly distant road you'd been traveling on. 

You got your first look at the front of your captor, no longer flung over his shoulder. 

Despite it being part of the little information you already knew about him, the first thing you noticed was that he was massive. He towered over you, with a broad frame to match. Tusks stuck out of his mouth as he sneered down at you, marring an almost handsome face. 

You’d never actually seen an orc in person and despite years of being at war with them, it struck you suddenly that they were real. They were real and in front of you, no longer threatening figures discussed in crowded rooms you weren’t supposed to speak in but instead a real man in front of you with his hand on your arm. It radiated warmth, applying a firm pressure that told you if he wanted to he could crush you underhand. 

In front of you, next to your very real captor, was a camp. The sort of camp you imagined soldiers slept in. You had no idea which side of the border you were on, disputed or otherwise. You hoped you were still in your own kingdom, but you had no way to know. It all looked the same from here. 

Amidst the massive canvas tents milled a dozen or so orcs. At your sudden appearance, they’d stopped what they were doing, all peering at their new guest. 

As they all stared at you, you panicked. Your feet started moving before your brain did. You managed to slip out from under your captor's grasp just in time to feel his hand dart forward, pushing you into the mud before you had a chance to get anywhere.

As you lay in the dirt, you heard something that sounded like orders being barked in a foreign tongue. 

And then you were being hauled to your feet. You didn’t have the presence of mind to be upset at the manhandling as you looked down at your body, the front of you almost completely covered in mud.  

You didn’t even have time to protest that before he cut you off. “Come on, m’lady. We have much to discuss.”

You crossed your arms, about to demand more respect from him before you were being lifted again and all you could manage was a surprised little squeak.

You watched helplessly as you were hauled into a nearby tent, all of the towering soldiers staring at you as you went. 

You were deposited less than graciously on the floor of the tent, left to flounder and find your bearing on your own as your captor moved to look at you. 

The tents were incredibly spacious, at least for someone of your size, the roof towering above you. 

He leaned down in front of you, tone condescending as he spoke. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re a bargaining chip for us. We’ll get you home as soon as your father allows it, princess.” He said your title like an insult, spat it at you in a way that made you flinch. 

“And in the meantime?” you asked, trying your best not to look afraid. You'd make your way out of this with your pride intact. Well, as much of your pride as you could still manage to salvage as you stood there, covered in mud. 

You could barely see the deep red of your dress under the grime. You didn’t even know how much of it was from your fall and how much you’d picked up on the road. 

“In the meantime,” he said, “you will sit around until we need you.”

“Perfect.” You stood, futilely attempting to brush off your skirts as you did and taking a step towards the entrance of the tent. “Well, I should go find a place to rest until I am needed.” It was a long shot but you at least had to try.   

Your captor followed you as you backed slowly out of the tent. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here.”

“What’s the harm in it? Where do you think I’m going to go?” you shouted, gesturing around you at the thick woods. “If I had a death wish, there are far better ways to satisfy it than getting lost in the forest. Attempting to kill you, perhaps.”

He nodded. “It would be more honorable, to die in combat against me.”

You groaned. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I meant. It’d be so honorable of me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find somewhere to rest, maybe even clean myself.”

You managed to make it about two steps before his arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you as if you were a ragdoll.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The words were hissed into your ear as he walked. You thrashed in his grip but it didn’t matter, he hauled you along just as easily. 

You were thrown into a new tent next to a massive wooden pole, staked into the ground in the center. 

He leaned down next to you, grabbing your arm, easily resisting your attempt to pull it away from him. As he easily held your wrists in one hand, the other reached back to pull out a length of rope. His hands were surprisingly nimble, threading rope around your wrists and securing you to the pole at the center of the tent with little difficulty. 

When he let his hands get a little too close to your face, you bit them as hard as you could, locking your jaw down on him. There wasn’t any strategy behind it, you couldn’t escape or go anywhere, but the way he hissed and yanked his arm back filled you with a little bit of self-satisfaction. That had to be worth something. 

He didn’t stick around long after. It seemed you had managed to piss him off at some stage in the kidnapping process. You couldn’t imagine when. 

Your first night in the orc camp was spent restlessly, pulling futilely at your bindings as you sat there on the floor. You tried not to wallow in your misery. This wouldn’t be forever. Your father would get you out of here, one way or another. Until then, you could put on a brave face. 

As the sun began to rise, the orcs’ curiosity in you seemed to reawaken. 

Occasionally a soldier would peek in the entrance of the tent, never for more than a few seconds, or you would see them silhouetted against the canvas, hovering nearby. When you got particularly frustrated you’d shout at them, the snorts of laughter your yelling drew from them only making you angrier. 

But anger was good. At least anger felt productive. 

You’d become accustomed enough to the curiosity of the soldiers that at first, when your captor returned, you didn’t notice it was him. It was only when he strode towards you and began to undo your bindings that you realized who he was. 

The second your bindings were undone, you made a break for it. You didn’t make it far. Your captor held you by your ankle, dangling you upside down, your various muddied skirt layers falling to cover your face as you struggled. 

“This will be easier for you if you behave,” he said, and you could hear a layer of irritation in his voice. 

You would've spat in his face if there weren't layers of fabric hanging in front of you. 

His attempts to right you were thwarted by your thrashing until you figured out what he was trying to do and attempted to still yourself as much as you could, if only to get your feet on the ground again. 

“We’re moving,” he said as you steadied yourself when returned back to solid ground. “I can carry you or you can walk.”

You opted to walk, both to preserve your dignity and to attempt to plan an escape. 

The soldiers were shockingly efficient, completely packing up the camp faster than you’d imagined possible. 

And then you were on the move. 

You had to move swiftly to keep up with them, none of the soldiers willing to slow for you. 

Your captor stayed diligently by your side, occasionally shooting you looks that seemed intended to tell you you had no chance of escape. You ignored him.

After about an hour of moving quietly, out of breath from all the walking, he was the one to break the silence. 

“You’re slow.”

“Your legs are longer than mine. Besides, it's hard to walk when you’re covered in filth” you said, struggling under stiff, heavy skirts. 

“And who is to blame for that?”

You gave him a pointed look. “In fact, I think you’ll find that you are.”

“You shouldn’t have run,” he said with a grunt. 

“You shouldn’t have pushed me!”

He rolled his eyes and then you were being hauled off the ground again. You yelped in protest but were quietly a little grateful as he sat you on his shoulder. If you had to keep moving at their pace all day, dressed as you were, you might’ve passed out. 

It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t keep up with a well-trained group of soliders. If anything, they should be impressed you managed to keep pace as long as you did. 

Your hand rested on his other shoulder as he moved, trying to keep yourself steady, but realistically, you knew he wouldn’t let you fall, his arm holding you easily in place. You were just glad you were being allowed to sit this time instead of being thrown around like a sack of potatoes. 

You spent the rest of the day like that, sitting on his shoulder as they traveled. As the sun began to set and the others began to set up camp, you expected to be set down. 

It seemed you were wrong. 

Instead of placing you on the ground or even tying you up again, he began to pace off in the opposite direction of the rest of the camp. 

Nerves began to take over you. He may have said nothing would happen to you, but you did not relish in the thought of being alone with him, let alone him intentionally dragging you away from the rest of his compatriots. 

You began to squirm again and his arm tightened, holding you in place. “Settle,” he said, his voice low and calm. 

You did not listen. 

Eventually, he did set you down, although you did not think your thrashing encouraged him to do so. 

As he did, you noticed the sound of a swift-moving river just behind you. 

He nudged you towards the river. “Clean. You’re too slow.”

“What?”

“You wanted to be clean,” he said, nudging you again. "You should clean”

“It’s a river.”

He looked at you like he was worried you’d hit your head. “It is.”

“And you expect me to wash in there? It’s full of dirt!”

He chuckled and you considered biting him again. “You’ll survive, princess.”

You groaned but decided that anything was better than the mud you were caked in. It was running water, at the very least. You weren’t certain why, but it did feel a little cleaner that way. 

You considered bathing fully clothed but you’d heard too many stories of women drowning, weighed down by layers of dresses. 

You began to pull at your dress, stripping off some of the upper layers, glaring at your captor as you did. It was too much to ask to be left alone, you knew that much, but it was still humiliating to get undressed in front of him like this. 

You only took off as many layers as you needed to ensure you wouldn’t drown. You were almost fully covered but still, you felt exposed. 

At the very least, he seemed largely disinterested in what you were doing, only sparing you the occasional glance. 

You covered your chest as you moved towards the water. He looked down at you as you did, head cocked to the side. “What are you doing?”

“The skirts are heavy, I can’t wear them in the water or I could drown.”

He scoffed. “Little weakling. That’s not what I asked though, why do you hide? You’re covered.”

“I’m being forced to strip to my underwear, of course I’m covering myself.”

He stared back, clearly still confused, and you realized as you looked at him that the idea of being properly dressed was probably not the same for him. He was covered, but largely in leathers and furs, with far more skin exposed than you would ever have, even now in your underskirts. 

“Listen,” you said, trying not to be too antagonistic, as it seemed he was truly trying to understand. “It’s different for us. Especially for me, I’m supposed to be covered perfectly at all times. Maybe you should give me new clothes.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked dismissively. 

Any patience you’d been trying to put on for him snapped. “Sorry, I forgot you’re a heartless brute, I don’t know why I asked.”

And with that, you stormed off into freezing cold water. 

The mud caking your skin began to wash off as soon as you touched the water and you let out a sigh of relief. The river looked to be snow runoff from a nearby mountain, it certainly felt cold enough for it, but for now all you wanted was to be clean. 

You looked down as you scrubbed at your skin and your skirts and as you did, you realized the whites of your underthings had become translucent in the freezing water. 

You turned and caught him staring, both looking away as soon as your eyes met. You turned your back to him immediately, feeling tears pricking at your eyes, trying to cover it up with the water that was rushing over you. It felt like you had nothing left, like this was the ultimate humiliation.

When you turned back to look at him once more, he was gone, not making so much as a sound as he left. 

You weren’t foolish enough to think he’d truly left you alone, but you appreciated having at least the pretense of privacy. It was shockingly… kind? 

No. You pushed the thought out of your mind as quickly as it occurred to you. You would not start thinking like that, not about the man who had kidnapped you. 

You finished bathing quickly, the chill starting to set into your bones. 

As you waded out of the river, he was still missing. It was evident where he’d been, massive orcs weren’t exactly built for stealth, but still he was nowhere to be found. 

In his stead, you found a pile of clothes lying on the bank of the river. As you lifted them, the first thing you noticed was while they were far too big for you, they were too big by human standards. It was an old shirt, well worn, and a pair of pants you’d have to find some way to tie to keep up properly. They were slightly torn and upon closer inspection, you found speckles of a dark rusty substance splattered across the shirt. 

Someone’s blood. From who’s side, you’d never know. 

You tried not to dwell on what had happened to the owner of these clothes to leave them in the orc’s possession. They were yours now. 

They were far more practical than your fine skirts had been, even if they didn’t quite fit properly. 

As you pulled them on, you hesitated, holding your skirts. You didn’t need them any longer, but it felt like a waste to just leave them here. 

But you had no time for sentimentality right now. You cast them aside, opting to forgo your shoes, despite the lack of new ones. Your shoes from the palace were not exactly built for forests and rough terrain. They’d only slow you down. 

As you finished dressing, situating yourself in the unfamiliar clothes as best you could, you looked around nervously. You could find no sign of your captor amidst the unfamiliar foliage, but you had more than enough reason to doubt yourself. You felt lost amidst the thick trees surrounding you, it was hard to tell where you stood. You didn’t know what to look for or how to orient yourself, trapped in a foreign landscape. 

You did what you could, checking for any onlookers, peeking through the trees, and once you’d made your decision, taking off. 

You had no idea where you were, or where you were running to, but anywhere was better than here. There were surely search parties looking for you and even if you were on the other side of the border, orc civilians or soldiers who were unfamiliar with your status were a better bet than your current captors. 

As your bare feet pounded down on a floor of sticks and rocks, you tried to ignore how cut up they were getting. 

You were faster this way. That was what counted. 

You focused on moving as fast as you could, the determination drowning out the pain until suddenly, the sharp rocks and twigs were underfoot no longer. Your brain took a second to catch up, feet still moving down to try and push off of a ground that was being pulled further and further away.

“Predictable little thing,” said a familiar voice beside you. “What happened to attempting to best me in combat? I didn’t take you for a coward, princess.”

A frustrated scream escaped you, cutting through the peaceful quiet of the forest. 

Despite your protests, he continued to haul you back towards the camp, tying you up as soon as you reached your tent, a practiced routine for the two of you by now. 

You had the night to sleep off your anger before morning came and you were on the move again. 

Your captor did not wait before lifting you onto his shoulder and this time, you did not fight him. It was preferable to running to keep up with them, especially on newly damaged feet. 

It felt strange to sit there, without struggling or screaming, just moving in silence. So instead, you spoke. 

“Do you have a name?”

“Drakar,” he said. His voice was low but with your position atop his shoulder, it was easy to hear him, even over the bustle of moving soldiers. 

“Thank you for the clothes,” you tried again, wanting to start up any sort of conversation to break the silence.

He didn’t even grace you with words this time, giving you a simple acknowledging grunt in return. 

His answers remained brief, with no apparent interest in engaging in conversation. Eventually, you stopped trying. 

When you came to a stop and the soldiers began to set up camp around you, you waited for your chance. 

The second Drakar turned his back to you, you were off. 

Another orc caught you in a heartbeat, hoisting you off the ground until Drakar could come fetch you. 

He dragged you off with a huff, scowling at you as he set you down. “Why do you continue to fight and run? I’ve told you of our plans to trade you, you’ll fare better with us than on your own in the wilds.”

“I have no desire to be a bargaining chip against my own people. Besides, I’m no fool. I know good things don’t often happen to soldier’s prisoners.”

He scoffed. “Your soldiers, maybe. We have honor, unlike them. And you call us the monsters.”

“Monsters? Maybe. Uncivilized at the very least.”

“I assure you, your soldiers in my country are living in no more luxury than we are here.”

So you were still in your country, not yet over the border. If you could just get away, your chances were good. “Well, then they’re uncivilized dogs just like you,” you spat. 

He never seemed to find your outbursts anything other than vaguely annoying or passively amusing. Right now, he seemed inclined towards amusement, despite your latest escape attempt. It was for the best, that tended to work out better for you. It was irritating nonetheless. “Perhaps.”

Your enlightening conversation was cut short as a horn sounded, a familiar announcing horn. The sound of one of your people. Drakar’s head perked up and before you understood what was happening, your legs were being bound together, untethered but severely limiting your movement. You might be able to move like this, but you couldn’t get far. 

He did not feel the need to explain this to you or threaten you with hunting you down, trusting you to come to your own conclusions as he strode off in the direction of the horn. 

You might not be able to run, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. The least you could do was try to gather information, so you could be useful when you were saved.

If you were saved.  

You managed to scoot your way towards the back of the tent Drakar had retreated to, out of sight of any of the soldiers, just close enough that you could peek under the thick fabric of the walls. 

Drakar’s back was to you. You could barely see the messenger from your spot on the floor, his body blocking your vision. You could just see the tip of a feather, presumably stuck in a hat, bobbing as the messenger spoke. 

As you got close enough to listen in, you caught Drakar mid-sentence. “- does your king think about our terms for his precious daughter?”

You held your breath, trying not to get your hopes up. This was a war. They couldn’t just be giving in to the first demands given. This could be a long, arduous process. You understood that, would never blame him for it. The country came first. 

“The king rejects your terms.” You tried not to let it get to you. You knew this would probably happen, could understand exactly where your father was coming from. The messenger continued on, unaware of your quiet heartbreak. “Furthermore, he would like to close negotiations on this matter.”

You could not hold in the gasp that came at his words. You saw Drakar stiffen and knew he’d heard you, knew he’d figured out exactly what you’d been doing. A moment passed and he untensed his shoulders and continued on. You silently thanked him. You were in no state to face anyone right now. 

“What do you mean close negotiations?” he asked, and you choked back tears. 

You cursed yourself for putting yourself in such a tight spot. You didn’t think you could manage a quiet escape, at least not without being noticed, not in your current state, so instead you sat, a captive audience to a discussion of why your family had given up on you. 

The messenger cleared his throat. “We do not negotiate with beasts.”

“So he chooses instead to abandon his daughter with them?”

The messenger disregarded his words entirely, his voice squeaking as he cried out, “You creatures will pay for the loss of his daughter.”

“She is not lost yet. He is choosing that fate for her, not I,” he hissed out.

“I have said all I was bidden to say. Do you have a message for the king?”

“Tell him if I see him or any of his scrawny little messengers again, I’ll rip them in two.”

With a little yelp, the messenger retreated. Drakar stood for a moment, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the tent. 

After a moment, the canvas of the tent was lifted and your hiding place was revealed. You sat, crumpled, on the ground, bile rising in your throat. 

That was it. There was no one coming. 

He hauled you to your feet, undoing your bindings. 

“What did you ask for me?” you asked as he undid the ropes, keeping you propped up on him as he worked. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” you snapped. You needed to know what was so much more important than you, what you’d been given up for. “You will tell me. I’ve earned that much.”

“A full retreat. It never would have been taken, it was just supposed to be a start to the negotiations.”

“Hmm.” It was a ridiculous ask, obviously so. But to dismiss you completely? To not even try?

Drakar pulled you out of your thoughts with a question. “Would you even want to go back now? If I let you go?”

Your brows furrowed. “You can’t let me go. It would show weakness, show you’ll roll over if your terms aren’t met.”

“I know, it was just a question. So what do I do with you now?”

You shrugged. “You could kill me.”

“No. We won’t be doing that. I should have killed him, though. The audacity of them sending a little snot-nosed fool to tell me negotiations were over. I should’ve gutted him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He spared you a look that said more than you were sure he wanted it to, rage and concern both written across his face. “I had other things on my mind.”

He tried to speak to you again but you’d begun to shut down. It was all too much, you could do no more. 

It didn’t seem too unreasonable a reaction. Your life had just ended, severed by your father without even a real rescue attempt. 

But even if you’d shut down, the world had not. 

And so it continued. Drakar seemed to have decided you were still useful somehow because every day you were hauled along with his troops, and every day you were given your own little tent. 

He didn’t keep you tied up anymore. It wasn’t because you’d become docile, you’d attempted many escapes and he’d found you and brought you back every time. You weren’t entirely sure why you were no longer being tied up. Maybe it was because you weren’t valuable anymore. 

You didn’t fully understand why you hadn’t been killed yet. What more could you do for them? 

As days passed, the grief lessened to more practical thoughts, thoughts about your future. What was there for you now? Why were you still here? What else could they want from you?

You wanted answers. 

You stood and stormed off. Several of the soldiers around you went to grab you until they realized that you were not headed out, but instead towards Drakar’s tent, letting you continue on your warpath. 

You started to shout as soon as you entered the tent and he whipped around to face you. “You should kill me. Why won’t you kill me? What do you want from me? Whatever it is, I won’t give it. I have nothing to give. I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.”

He watched your outburst with a level of amusement on his face that made you want to attack him. “Are you done?”

You ran at him, trying to claw at him, bite him, anything. He restrained you easily, pinning you against him, but still, it fed something in you, trying to do something.

You felt him chuckle behind you and if you weren’t pinned down, you would have attacked him again. 

“See,” he asked, and you felt the rumble of his voice through his chest. “You’ll be fine. You’re a fighter.”

“I will not fight for you,” you spat.

“I don’t expect you to. But you will fight for you. Nothing is over.”

He released you from his grip and before you could decide what to do with your newfound freedom, someone came crashing into the tent, armor shining a bright silver. He stood, ready to attack, sword in hand, but the second he saw you he froze. “You’re dead,” he choked out, words muffled through the metal of the armor. 

You didn’t have a chance to respond before Drakar had thrown him halfway across the camp, orc soldiers rushing over to finish him off. He didn't stand a chance.  

You stared at the spot he had just been in, processing his words, before slowly turning to Drakar. 

“What was that?”

“An attacker. A foolish little man.”

You shook your head. “No not… why did he think I was dead?’

“Princess, the whole world thinks you’re dead.”

You head snapped up to look at him. “Why?”

“Because I told them.”

You reeled back. “Why would you do that? I didn’t ask you to say that.”

“Your people didn’t seem to care.”

“Oh, thank you so much then. As long as they didn’t care, then it’s fine. You speak of honor and then do this. Why? To torture me? Make sure I have nowhere to go and ensure that I know I am not loved?”

You’d had enough of this conversation, turning heel and storming off without another word, set on putting as much distance as possible between you and them. 

You vaguely heard orders being barked to follow you, but that didn't stop you from running. 

It didn’t change anything. No matter how far you ran, you had nowhere to go. 

Drakar didn’t follow you himself, instead sending someone else to do his dirty work. A few orcs stood behind you, easily able to keep track of you and match your pace. 

You weren’t even given a full hour of feigned freedom before one of them had picked you up and started pulling you back towards camp. You fought them the whole way. 

You were set down in front of him, the whole process embarrassing. You straightened your ill-fitted pants as you desperately tried to regain any ounce of dignity. 

Despite your appearance, he didn’t seem amused. “You shouldn’t run.”

“So you saw fit to have me kidnapped? Again?”

“I had to tell them you were dead,” he said, pushing past your outburst.

You scoffed. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I have orders to kill you. The negotiations failed, my people wanted you dead. It was the only way out of this for you.”

Oh. There was no reprieve for you on either side. You’d known your father had signed your death warrant with his refusal to negotiate but now the orders had been given. 

“Then why am I still here?” you asked, your voice smaller than you would’ve liked. 

“It is not just. I will not kill you.”

“So what now?”

“No one knows what you look like,” he said, his voice soft and low. “It doesn’t have to be over.”

It didn’t matter. Both sides had condemned you. You had your life, but nowhere you could live it. “I have nowhere to go,” you said, sounding braver than you felt.  

“You’ll find somewhere. Until then, there’s always room for you in my camp. I displaced you, the burden of this wrong falls to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “And none of your men will send word that you’ve kept me here?”

“As long as they get to keep staring at you, I can’t imagine they’d mind.”

Your nose wrinkled at his words. “These are your honorable men? Letting me stay for the right to keep ogling me?”

“It’s not so odd. They’re fascinated by you, such a strange little thing.”

You supposed you were strange and foreign to them, as they were to you. But surely you weren’t the first, not with the combat they must’ve seen. “You’ve seen humans before.”

“Some of them haven’t. At least, not living ones that aren’t trying to kill us.”

“Who said I’m not trying to kill you.”

He snorted. “Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.”

“And if I stay? I won’t fight my own people, even if I was trained in combat. You’ll just carry around dead weight?”

“You’re hardly dead weight. I don’t even notice you up on my shoulder half the time.”

“You know that’d not what I mean.”

“I do. There are towns over the border where you could stay.”

You looked up, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “They’ll take me? A random human?”

He nodded solemnly. “They will, if you wish to depart. If not… I am the reason your people forsook you. I do not regret it, I did what needed to be done, but I regret what has come to pass to you because of it. You’ve faced this better than I ever thought a human would. They’re cowards to have cast you out, I will not follow in their steps. It may not be what you’re used to, I am no prince and we are no humans, but you’re welcome to stay at my home. You will never be a princess again, that was taken from you. I took that from you. It is only fair to give what I can in return. It is not much, but it is what I have.”

You smiled, swallowing down the lump in your throat and willing away the misty feeling in your eyes. “Thank you. I’d love to stay, if you’ll have me.”

It was no great concession from you, you weren’t exactly drowning in options, but it felt like choosing it all the same. It was no less of a choice than your last home had been, born into it and forbidden to ever really leave. 

This was being offered to you. You were being given the opportunity to say no. To run. 

As much as Drakar had angered and frustrated you in the past week or so, you weren’t sure you’d ever been given this much respect. Real respect, not the fake respect of being placed in war rooms and told to be silent. 

You gave him a final nod and a smile, adding a curtsy that you pulled yourself out of halfway through when you thought better of it, tripping over your feet a little as you did. 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you and you wondered how you’d never noticed it before. 

You went to bed that night feeling lighter, freer than you were used to. 

As you left your tent the next morning, you almost tripped over a deer carcass left in your doorway. 

You backed away slowly, rushing over to Drakar’s tent. 

He was barely dressed for the day, the sun having only half risen past the horizon, and gave you a smile and a nod as he saw you rush into his tent. “Good morning, princess.”

You barely let him finish his sentence before you blurted out, “Someone left a dead animal outside my tent.”

He froze, his shoulders tensing.

You watched, waiting for a response and getting none, before adding, “Should I be concerned? It felt like a threat. Maybe they don’t like that you lied for me, that you're protecting me. Maybe they don’t like me like you think they do.”

“It’s not a threat,” he said with a swift shake of his head. 

“How could you know?”

He explained it through barred teeth. “It’s an orchish courting gift. You’ve caught someone’s interest.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” None of the tension had left him and he made no attempt to hide his irritation. “It’s odd, an orc taking an interest in such a frail little thing.”

You rolled your eyes. He was clearly upset that one of his soldiers had become distracted with you, maybe even disgusted at the prospect of one of them taking interest in a human of all things. Clearly your bonding the day before hadn’t taken you that far. 

“I don’t know, I’ve heard I can be quite charming.”

He ignored your statement completely, shifting closer to you as he spoke. “You should stay close to me until I can find out who left it and tell them off.” He was being strangely protective almost, the disgust you’d assumed would be there instead entirely absent. 

“Why would you tell off my suitor? Surely I should do that myself. Besides, why do you even ca-”

Oh. 

The reality of why someone courting you would make him protective set in and you looked up at him with wide eyes

You couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that plastered itself across your face. “Well, maybe I’ll accept it. I’ve got no future now, it couldn’t hurt to have a big, strong orc husband.” 

He stood a little straighter as he understood the implication. “You seek protection?”

“Hm, I do, thank goodness I’ve finally found a suitable option, I was really starting to worry.”

Frustration flashed through his eyes as he realized what you were doing. “Fine, we should go find this suitor so we can tell him how graciously you’re accepting this courtship. I, for one, will be glad to be rid of you. Now you’ll be someone else’s problem.” 

“We should. Unless there’s something you’d like to say?”

His nostrils flared as he glared down at you. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Nothing on your mind? Nothing like, I don’t know, having feelings for the, what is it you keep calling me? The weakling you kidnapped?”

He avoided meeting your eyes as he spoke. “Your force of will is admirable. The odds were against you but still you fought.”

You fought the urge to coo at him, at how flustered he looked and how it seemed like he was forcing out every word. You had no doubt he would rather have left you an animal carcass. You preferred it this way. 

“I’m going to need you to be more direct than that.” Your voice was patient and kind and you could tell it was making things a hundred times worse for him. 

“I had intentions to look into human courting, to find something familiar for you amidst so many new things you’ve been forced into. But given the situation, I suppose I can just tell you.”

“Tell me what?” you asked. You were going to make him say it, you didn’t care how long it took.

“About my intention to court you.” 

You giggled at his pained face and he relaxed a little, looking down at you with fondness in his eyes. You wondered when that had begun. You wished you’d been paying attention enough to notice. 

“What now?” he asked. “How do your human courtships go? I will do what I must.”

You thought about it, amusement flickering through you at the thought of Drakar trying to uphold the proper etiquette required while courting a princess. But the courting process was long and strained and if you were being honest, you preferred the brutal honesty you’d been given here at camp. “Frankly, I’ve had just about enough of how humans do it. What about you? We can skip the dead animal bit, but what comes next?”

He looked you up and down, some gears turning in his head that you were not privy to.

“I will have to be gentle,” he said, before hauling you over his shoulder and bringing you over to his bed of furs on the floor. 

Your eyes widened as the implication set in. You’d been far from the perfect princess, having your fair share of trysts with guards and servants over the years, but this was a different beast. 

And then he kissed you and you stopped thinking altogether. 

It was desperate and urgent, his lips figuring out how to move against your smaller ones and you reached up, pulling his face closer as he set you below him on his makeshift bed. 

He ground down on you, clothed hips moving to meet yours. Your disparate sizes meant to do so while kissing you he was contorted at a strange angle but he certainly wasn’t complaining. 

He stopped kissing you, rushing to pull off his off pants, and his cock slapped against your stomach, thick and hard and hot and you wanted him inside you now.

But when it fell against you, it hit just above your belly button and you thought that perhaps your eyes were a bit bigger than your stomach.

He seemed to realize the impracticality of it at the same time you did, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Don't worry, princess, I'll get you nice and stretched out.”

You chuckled nervously. “I don’t know if stretching will be enough.”

He slid down, hitching your shirt up and pressing a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I won’t hurt you. If you’re not ready, that’s fine. There are other things we can do.”

He shifted both of you with ease, pulling you to sit on his chest as he laid back on his bed. You looked down at him, brows furrowed. “What about your traditional orc courtship.”

That pulled another laugh from him. “What part of this do you think has been traditional? The closest we got to traditional was when you bit me.”

You flushed red, recontextualizing the memory and wondering how many of the things you’d been doing to anger him had also been part of traditional orc courtship. 

While you were busy blushing, he’d set to work on your pants, wrestling them off of you as he easily manhandled you. You barely helped, halfheartedly kicking them off. You remembered how much you hated being picked up by him when this had begun and how much that had changed. You were loathe to admit it but every time he lifted and moved you so easily, something stirred inside you. 

As soon as he got your pants off you were pulled roughly forward, his hands wrapping around your thighs as he pulled you onto his mouth. 

He ate you out with just as much urgency as he kissed you with, wasting no time before sliding his tongue through your folds. 

His grip was unforgiving, pulling you down so all of your weight was on him. 

His tusks dug into your inner thighs and he seemed to pull you impossibly closer as his tongue thrusted up inside of you. 

Even his tongue was almost too thick, you walls stretching to accommodate it. You hands grasped at his hair, needing something to hold onto. 

His mouth locked over your clit, sucking hard before moving back to thrust inside of you again, hands rising to play with your sensitive bud of nerves as he did. 

As you began to fall apart above him, writhing against the onslaught of sensation, he only doubled his efforts. 

You arched your back, your thighs clamping down on either side of his head, hips shifting with the waves of your orgasm that suddenly overcame you. He was content to let you ride it out, grip loosening to let you have your control as you moans filled the tent. 

You came down slowly and it took a few moments to realize you were still sitting on his face. 

You moved to sit beside him on the furs as soon as you did, your face warming. 

You shifted your head to rest against him, staring down at his cock as you did. It was impossibly hard and practically pulsing with need, and you made a decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret. 

“You know, it can’t hurt to try.”

He sat up immediately, eagerness evident in his face. “You’ll stop me if it’s too much.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. 

You gave him a knowing look. “Of course I will.”

He shifted you, lifting you over him and you were happy to give over control. You trusted him.

It felt even bigger pressed up against your entrance than it had on your stomach and you took a deep breath. You waited but as nothing happened, you realized that Drakar was waiting for your signal. 

No nodded and he began to lower you, incredibly slowly. As it pushed inside, you knew the girth was more than anything you’d taken before, but it was manageable. The stretch bordered on painful but it was slow and careful enough that you had time to adjust. 

And then, as it went further and further, it became too much, 

You winced long before he’d bottomed out, about half of it inside you. It was bordering on too painful and you pressed your hands against his chest, shaking your head. “No more,” you said quietly, already weak from your last orgasm. 

He didn’t seem to mind, holding you steady as he pressed you close to him, muttering quiet praises to you. 

You slowly adjusted, not ready to take more but more than happy with what was already inside of you. 

You shifted your hips a little, pushing it against a perfect spot inside of you, letting out a quiet moan as you did. 

He put a stop to it fairly quickly, holding you still. “I think I’ll just keep you there. You’re perfect, taking me so well.”

You writhed, trying to get the stimulation you were becoming desperate for but he held you steady easily. 

So you tried a new tactic. “Want more,” you said, voice soft and sweet. If that didn’t work you’d try yelling at him, see how that fared. 

“Careful, I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. You damn humans, so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile, you’re just too big.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Despite his words, he began to slowly move, shifting out of you before pushing in again, careful to not push past the point where you’d stopped him. 

He moved you up and down like it was nothing, careful even as he began to speed up, hips shifting a little to meet you, chasing after your warm cunt as he pulled you back up.

His breathing grew shaky as he did and despite feeling overwhelmed with sensation, you fought to keep your eyes open, to watch him come undone. 

As his grunts became more and more unruly, your walls clenched around him at the sight. 

He immediately pulled you up, leaving just the head of his cock inside of you as he filled you with thick ropes of come. 

His breathing was ragged and his grip on you tightened slightly, pulling you even closer to him. 

He looked down at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, before pulling you off of him and settling back with you resting on his chest. 

You made an absolute mess of him as he did, with no chance of keeping the frankly absurd amount of come inside of you. 

He didn’t seem to care at all.

“We’re making a mess,” you said, despite suspecting the objection would fall on uncaring ears. 

“You said you wanted an orcish courting, the mess is traditional.”

You weren’t sure if you were cut out for a traditional orc courting, already squirming as your thighs were coated in his spend. 

But his chest was warm and his breathing steady and you couldn’t help but settle into the comfort of it. 

“I'm gonna fit all of it someday,” you said, meaning it fully.

He laughed. “Brave little thing, aren’t you? Dreaming big.”

You snorted. 

“What happens now?” you asked as you snuggled further into him. 

“You reject that fool's advances.”

You hummed happily. “I will. I guess I’m lucky I caught your eye, don’t know if I would've survived this if I hadn’t”

“I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have let them kill you. It wouldn't be right. And you would’ve managed even without me. You wouldn't be the first human to sneak away to our side.”

That surprised you. “I wouldn't?”

He chucked, hands running through your hair. “You wouldn't. We're a more accepting group, I've found. Although you are a weak little species, we don’t have much use for you. You’re lucky you're pretty or I don't know if we'd put up with you.”

You scrunched up your nose. “You didn’t decide to court me because you thought I was pretty though.”

“No,” he said, like you both already knew the answer. “I decided to court you because no matter how many times we stopped you, you never stopped trying to run, to fight.”

You sat up with a sudden urgency. “If I said I wanted to go home, to my father, would you let me?” 

You watched the panic flash across his face and some selfish part of you hoped it was panic over losing you and not panic over the consequences that could come if you showed up alive after his order to kill you.

He sat with it for a while and you let him, in no rush to pull an answer from him.

Finally, he seemed to find whatever he'd been searching for. “I would.”

“Good,” you said, a smug feeling welling up in your chest, right beside the warmth that had begun to fill you at his answer. “Then I'll stay.”

He tried and failed to hide his smile. “Good. Does that mean you’re done running from me?”

You grinned, knowing full well it didn’t. What would be the fun in that? “We’ll see.”

“I’m sure,” he said as he shifted the two of you, wrapping you up in furs to protect your modesty before picking you up once more, with one arm under your knees and the other below your back, keeping you close to his chest. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

This is a want not a need

satoru putting a vibrator wand on your clit and no matter how much you beg and plead, he’ll keep it there and laugh at you while he does it.

what really turned him on, though, was putting a cloth inside or around your mouth and watching your facial reaction as you get overstimulated.

your chest is rising and falling every time he turns the speed on the wand faster. it hurts so bad, but you keep cumming.

“you want me to believe you want to stop when you’re squirting?” taking the wand, moving it away, and swiping the squirt that comes off.

he got off to you, begging with your eyes and your whimpers.

your clit and hole were sore by the time he got done with you, and he’s never actually done with you.

he even got a dildo machine and would put you in front of it, restrain you, and put the wand on your clit.

the double pleasure you received from that died out quickly when you got overstimulated, with tears rushing down your face and muffled cries from beneath the cloth.

satoru would just stare at you and laugh while his hard-on twitched in his pants; he fucking loved it.

“there you go, you can keep going.” he’ll coo from the corner as his eyes trailed over every bit of your body as he watched you get fucked out of your mind.

this would go on for hours and hours—just hours of you getting fucked by this machine and overstimulated by the wand.

after he got tired of watching, satoru would fuck you himself, and feeling his dick pulse inside, shortly after cum inside you, it felt good.

“you love this shit don’t you, hm?” his hands on your breasts, squeezing them as he pushes into you once more, his dick passing your sweet spot.

your body became extra sensitive to the toys, so every time he touched you, your pussy would get wet and your nipples would get hard.

even when he would fuck you, you would cum in under five minutes, which made satoru want to abuse your pussy even more.

slapping it, putting a vibrating dildo inside of you—anything you can think of—he did it, and it had you jerking with pleasure.

one time, satoru put you on a chair, put the vibrator under you, and had you stay there for hours.

by the time he came back, the chair and floor were soaked in your fluids, your eyes rolled back, and your body was jumping from each tiny orgasm that followed.

“don’t tell me you don’t like this shit when you cum over yourself.” his words are soft as he looks down at you.

He liked seeing you get overstimulated; he liked putting his fingers inside of you and feeling your wetness coat his fingers; he liked hearing your pleads and whimpers.

no matter what, he was going to torture your clit, if your pussy wasn’t aching or if you weren’t begging him to stop by the end of the night, he'd start over, and it'd be even more intense.

if one toy dies, he’ll go to the other, and the cycle will repeat. when he was done teasing you, nothing would come out of your mouth.

like they disappeared; you couldn’t even think.

that’s why, after a certain time of being fucked silly, you’ll just accept the pleasure that came and sink into the overstimulation.

the only way you could communicate with him was through your moans and whimpers, like the slut you are.

Pussy so good he broke the couch

ʚ ft. Perv Roomate Geto

ʚ cont: fem reader, rough sex, dirty talk, spit, unprotected sex, choking, praise, 1 face slap, spit, manhandling, teasing, sexual tension, consensual photography 

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You and your roommate Geto had quite the routine down by now. The two of you would turn off all the lights in the house except for the small side table lamp next to the couch before you gathered the essentials, blankets, pillows, and snacks. Only the snacks often were forgotten about. Without fail about twenty minutes into the movie, Geto would spread his arm out on the back of the couch, scooting closer to you as he did so. That's how it always started.

Of course, when he made such an obvious move like that, you couldn't just ignore him, right? So you scooted closer to him as well, closing the gap between you as you lay your head down on his shoulder, his body heat seeping into your skin. Suguru would soon abandon grabbing the back of the couch and scoot his arm forward, placing his arm around your shoulders.

The entire time the two of you stayed silent, no one uttering so much as a work to the other as the tension in the room grew. Not even when Suguru removed his arm from the back of you and brought it around to grab onto your thigh, his large, warm hand massaging the skin. This is usually where you start to really feel it. Your mouth runs dry, your palms get sweaty, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the ache.

"You okay?" Geto always asked, noticing how hot you were getting, and you always answered with a smile and a nod, both of you pretending you had no idea what was going on despite the way you looked at each other like you wanted to devour the other. Suguru would slide his hand higher and higher, teasing his pinky on the inside of your thigh, making your breathing pick up.

Now Geto was fully hard and aching in his pants, thank god for the blanket draped across the two of you. Not like you seeing how hard he was matters when he would be buried balls deep inside you in a couple of minutes. Even when Geto started rubbing his thick fingers against your clothed pussy, making your heart rate spike, your breath obviously louder and more stuttered now, he kept his eyes on the TV, pretending to watch the movie as if he wasn't touching your cunt.

Only when you grabbed his wrist and finally moaned out his name so sweetly, breaking the silence, did the two of you give up the innocent act and give in to your desire. This night was no different, and Suguru was currently caging you in with his strong arms, his cock threatening to poke your cervix, as he pounded you into the couch.

"That's all you f-fucking got? G-give it to me Suguru." You moaned, your words coming out broken and stuttered despite your challenging words and cocky smile to match. Suguru shook his head as he wet his lips with his tongue, his hips never letting up inside you. "You want it harder? Huh?" He groaned against your lips, breathing in your moans, making him dizzy.

You wrapped your arms harder around his neck, pulling him closer against you. Each time he thrust his hips inside you, his hard pelvis was rubbing perfectly against your swollen clit, making your toes curl. "Yeah, give it to me harder." You moaned, your words a teasing barely-there whisper against his lips, making him groan in response, his face already flushed from feeling how tight and wet you felt around him.

"You sure? You look like you can barely keep up with this pace." Geto teased, laughing as he raked his eyes across your face, keeping his hips moving. Suguru pulled his lip between his teeth when you squeezed hard around him, his cock throbbing at the feeling. "You s-sure you're the one who can't handle it?" You teased back, squeezing your legs around his hips, pressing his cock deeper inside you when he thrust in.

You opened your mouth a hairs length away from his lips, feigning a kiss which he tried to reciprocate; his own lips parted expectantly; before you whispered, "You seem like you're about to cum already, need to take a break?" Suguru felt the vein in his forehead pop out at your words. The smile on your face was quickly wiped off as your brows knit together when Suguru's hand constricted around your throat, shutting down any more teasing words from you.

"You're so fucking smart today huh? Let's see who cums first." Geto groaned, emphasizing his words by squeezing his hand harder around your throat. The action made stars arise in your vision, it felt so fucking good when he choke you, the feeling always went straight to your cock. He closed the distance between your lips at the same time he picked up his pace. If his hips weren't bullying you before, they sure as hell were now.

You tried to keep up with the pace of Geto's tongue and he forced it against yours, overpowering you with it just like he was doing with his body against yours. Geto was fucking you so hard, his cock filling you up entirely, leaving no part of your walls untouched as he buried himself balls deep over and over. Your moans were being forced out of your mouth and into Geto's by his ruthless hips, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back.

You moved your tongue weakly against his, your head starting to go dumb from the reduced air intake your lungs were getting thanks to his iron grip on your lungs. You were granted a little reprieve when he pulled away from your lips and sat back on his heels, your legs forced apart as they rested on his thighs. Geto pulled the fat of your upper thigh against him to make sure he was as close as possible before he started fucking into you again, somehow harder.

This new position was making him feel so much deeper. Your eyes repeatedly rolled back in your head as nothing but incoherent moans and whines left your lips, echoing throughout the room, the movie playing quietly in the backround still. You gripped Geto's wrist for support with both of your hands, the action only making him squeeze your throat tighter.

He shook his head watching your body squirm around against the cushions, he couldn't decide if you were trying to escape his cock or get more of it, it was cute. Suguru's face and chest were now the same color, beat red, as your pussy made him go dumb, his brain on autopilot telling him "harder, harder, harder, don't stop, make her cum." 

"Such a filthy girl." Suguru groaned, a pussydrunk smile on his face as he took in your tits jiggling in every direction from the force of his thrusts. "F-uck S-suguruuu-" You tried to cry, pressing your thighs together tightly around his waist. "'S that feel good? 'M I fucking you nice n deep how you like it?" He asked, his balls slapping against your ass making a loud, lewd sound emanate into the room.

You nodded your head furiously in his hold while you repeated, "Yesyesyes 's fucking deep-" Over and over. Geto couldn't believe how someone so fucked out could still manage to look so beautiful. Tears and sweat were sliding down your cheeks and mixing into one, your flyaways were sticking to your forehead and your body was shaking and trembling with every thrust.

Geto released his hand from around your throat before quickly stuffing two fingers into your open mouth. You were too fucked out to close your lips around them, just letting your tongue swirl around his fingers, drool dripping down your chin. "You're so fucking hot, takin' my cock so good pretty girl." He praised, shaking his head at how shameless you were.

The couch made a loud creaking sound with every thrust, challenging the volume of your own moans. It did that every time though, both of you learning over time to tune it out as the sound soon became backround noise just like the TV. Geto's cock leaked pre-cum into your cunt every time you squeezed around him, becoming nothing more than added wetness as he continued thrusting inside you.

He tipped his head back and let his eyes fall shut as he relished in how warm and tight you were, making his balls throb with the need for release but he could tell you were getting close. Suguru hooked his fingers on the inside of your cheek, stretching your mouth open before he leaned over you and gripped your jaw with the other. You were jolted back to reality when Geto spat right on your tongue, your mouth closing instinctively, his fingers still inside, as you swallowed what he gave you.

Suguru sat back up and grinned, his cock throbbing at how eagerly you swallowed for him. He pulled his fingers out from your wet mouth before he pulled his hand back and left a small smack on your face, the noise echoing through the room. You smiled at the feeling, your cheek stinging a bit from where he just hit you, but it was quickly replaced by a kiss as he was now on top of you again, his body caging you in.

"What are you smiling for, huhh? You like gettin' hit?" Suguru teased, squishing your cheeks together. You nodded dumbly at his words, trying to rock your hips back up into him as you kept your cloudy eyes on his. Suguru smiled while shaking his head at you, "so. fucking. dirty." He groaned, emphasizing his words with his hips.

You moaned against his lips when he crashed his face against yours, his hand moving from your jaw to down between your bodies as he found your clit with ease, rubbing against it using small, quick circles. Your moans increased in pitch as you whined against him, his mouth swallowing up your sounds. Your legs shook with oversensitivity. His cock was steadily beating against the most sensitive parts inside you, and now he was rubbing your clit just right? Fuck, it was making you go crazy.

With your arms now snugly around his shoulders, you tried tapping repeatedly against them, a small smacking sound being created from how needily you were hitting him. "Too much? Gonna cum?" Geto teased as he pulled away from your lips. Your back arched off the cushions, your head tipping back with it as you felt your orgasm build up steadily inside you. "F-fuck, fuck don't stop- d-don't fucking stop-" You begged, your eyebrows pinching together with pleasure. 

Suguru's insatiable lips found your neck when you tipped it back. His lips and tongue working together against your skin to suck hickeys and lick fat, hot stripes against you followed by kisses. Just when you were about to be pushed over the edge by Geto's fat cock that was fucking you so well, you heard a loud cracking sound followed by a crash. 

Geto's cock slipped out of you as the couch split in two, your body falling into the crevice, Geto's arms pinning around you. "Wha-" You mouthed, feeling a slight ache in your lower back from where you had hit the broken wood. Your orgasm had fizzled away the instant the couch broke, but you still felt that tight ball of need deep in your tummy.

While you were trying to put together what just happened using your fuzzy, fucked out brain, Geto's large hand manhandling you took you out of it as you were placed on the floor next to the now broken couch on all fours. "W-wait the-" Your words were cut off as Geto slid his cock back inside you all at once, a groan leaving your lips simultaneously.

Geto seemed to be in a trance as he picked up right where he left off, fucking into you hard and quick, his hand dipping under your body to rub against your clit. "S-suguruu-" You whined, reaching for his hand. You must've forgotten you needed your arms to hold yourself up because as you gripped his wrist between your legs from under you, the front half of your body fell forward against the floor. Thank god for the plush carpet under your face.

"Cum for me, I can feel how close you are, cmon give it to me, n-need to feel it." Geto groaned, his words rushed and voice deep as he spoke. All of his actions were full of lust, he was more fucked out than you now. His other hand grabbed the fat of your ass and used that grip to pull you back against him harder, making his cock ruthlessly pound against your g-spot.

Geto's pace was getting sloppier, and you could feel how often he was twitching inside you, he was about to cum. Your knees pressed together and your feet kicked up between Geto's legs, fluttering as you were worked up to your orgasm again. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as he kept rubbing your clit, sloppy, messy circles doing the job just right. "Ohhhmygod-" You moaned through your teeth, your eyes rolling back in your head as you felt your orgasm crash over you.

Geto's body fell on top of yours, his hand caging you in by your head as he finished with you, releasing rope after rope of hot cum deep in your walls as your cunt pulsed around him, milking the cum from his balls. The two of your moans mixed together so sweetly, his hot breath tickling by your ear as his body went limp, save for his hips that kept shallowly, weakly thrusting his cock inside you, making sure he filled you up nice and deep.

"Sugu..." You whined, turning your head toward him. Geto let you grab his cheek and pull him down towards you, his lips meeting your own in a sweeter kiss, still a little fast, but more controlled. You pulled away from his lips after a moment to catch your breath, your lips parting with mutual pants as you rested your head between your arms on the ground in front of you. 

Geto sat up and slowly pulled his hips back, both of you groaning at the oversensitivity. You could feel the strange and slightly uncomfortable feeling of Geto's cum chasing his cock as it dripped from your hole, sliding down your thigh. "mmmmmmm...." You groaned in disgust, your thighs pressing together to stop any more from coming out, to no avail of course.

You felt Geto's fingers pull your pussy lips apart as he oggled his masterpiece before you heard the camera click of your roommate taking a picture, your body getting illuminated by the light. Geto retracted his thumb from your cunt as he whistled, staring at his phone. You pushed yourself up on shaky arms and sat on your sore bottom, now facing him. "Did you just take a picture of my cunt?" You asked, looking at him incredulously.

You didn't care about him taking pictures. He'd done it before and you knew he was too weirdly possessive over you to show anyone else. "Yeah." He smiled, turning his phone around to face you. You were met with the apps on his home screen, only they were sitting on a unique backround, your dripping cunt. "Suguru you are NOT using my pussy as your homescreen you freak." You chastized, trying to snatch his phone out of his hand.

He retracted it out of your reach and placed it on the side table behind him before he faced you again. "It's hot, no one goes into my phone anyways." He shrugged, smiling at you, his face still red. You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to argue right now. You reached out and brushed his hair out of his face before you raked your hand down his scalp, practically making the dark-haired man purr. "Feels good." He said, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch.

"I bet it does." You responded, scratching the back of his head. "You know what's not gonna feel good though?" You asked, keeping a sweet and innocent smile on your face for him to see when he opened his eyes, looking at you quizzically. "Your bank account when you get done buying me a new couch." 

Suguru's face immediately fell into a frown, a bit of a dramatic one as he glanced over at the very broken couch before back to you. "It was an accident." He said pouting. "I knowww~" You cooed, smiling at him through the irritation, "A six thousand dollar accident!!" You finished, dropping your hand and patting him on the thigh. "Good luck!! I want a grey couch this time by the way." You smiled, rubbing his thigh.

It’s so good but it’s sad🥲🥲

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

word count: 17.8k

summary: bakugou is yours, and you're his, but what happens when distance and dreams get in the way of your relationship? dating a pro hero isn't easy, and neither of you will settle for just enough.

tags: 5 times trope (5 times you break each other’s hearts), angst+fluff, lovers to exes to fwb to strangers, pro hero bakugou x fem!reader, time skip towards the end, it's messy and ugly. also trans!bakugou, pussy eating and soft sex (he doesn't have sex, he makes love), demi coded bakugou because i said so

bonus:

playlist

bakugou's past (ao3 link)

ao3 fic link

1.(the beginning of an end)

“You know what this means, right?” 

The guests have left and it’s now only you and him in the shared apartment. Dinner was nice, everyone was happy and celebrating your boyfriend’s achievement. He had been offered a job position as a rookie in a really good hero agency. Abroad. Hours away from you. 

“Can we not do this now? Let's wait until tomorrow, please.” You don’t beg. Maybe he’ll take in your tensed shoulders and do you the favor, carrying out the fake act for a while longer. Just one more night with him in your arms. 

Bakugou’s eyes burn into the side of your neck as you do the dishes. He’s next to you drying and putting them away. “We’ll have to talk about it eventually.” Your smile is gone. It doesn’t really matter, it was as real as purple haired dogs- you can’t fool me. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Your hands burn at his accusation. Or maybe it’s just the tap water, too hot for your skin but the perfect temperature to get rid of the grease on your plates. 

“Hm.” 

Ashy blonde hair makes its way onto your right shoulder. Bakugou leans on you, letting part of his body weight fall and taking you down with him. You drop the ceramic and use both your arms to steady him, grabbing his looming frame and holding him with the help of your hip. Like a big ass baby. 

“Katsuki stop!” He doesn’t budge. “Katsuki! You’re gonna make us fall!” There’s the beginning of a laugh bubbling up in your throat, so you push it down. “Seriously, stop.”

The giant man stands up, properly this time, and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you flush against him, kisses your temple and makes his way down to your lips, catching them unguarded and eagerly waiting. You melt into him, what else could you do? If it’s your last night with him, if it’s his last night being yours. 

Somehow you manage to escape his embrace with the excuse of a much-needed shower. He offers to join but you decline. You have to get used to showering alone. 

Bedtime is long past, but he’s still awake. Fighting for his life, but awake. The book between his hands threatens to fall on his chest. You observe him from the bathroom door as he blinks comically to keep the sleepiness away. 

“Fucking finally.” He mutters as you shuffle in next to him, placing the book on his nightstand and taking off his reading glasses.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you always go to bed early.” Please, don’t do it now. 

Bakugou studies your face for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it again. His eyes fall to your lips, and he leans forward to steal a kiss. Let's do it tomorrow then. 

That’s pretty much how every day looks like to you for the rest of the week. He tries to bring up the elephant in the room and you run away like a scaredy cat, he doesn’t insist so you never actually talk. 

Sunday morning comes around and his bags are ready, sitting by the door. You spent your Saturday evening out with friends, not baring to watch him put his clothes away. He has already packed up his books and family pictures, putting all his stuff in boxes except for the most important one. Though he’s leaving you the furniture you bought together when you first moved in- the couch, the mattress, the bookshelf (now half empty), the place feels empty. 

“Oi.” His voice is unusually soft. Not because he isn’t (soft), but because that’s not how he does it really. Bakugou may appear as loud and opinionated to anyone who meets him, but the man you know has a careful touch and a sweet tone- eager to please and ready to love. But this, the sound you’re hearing right now, it’s colored with pity. “I- Do you think we should talk?” 

He’s standing by the door, as if ready to bolt out the second you start crying. His flight isn’t until midnight, but he’s already opening his dumb mouth. The fact that this time he’s asking tells you everything you need to know. You haven’t said a word the whole week, dodging his reaching hand and masking your pain with a smile. There isn’t much to say now, you both already know how this ends. Ever since teenagers none of you had been fond of long-distance relationships, and even before dating Bakugou had warned you this could happen. You got on the train anyway, because you loved him. And he loved you. Now you both have to get off, though you love him. And he loves you. 

His eyes are fixed on the broken tile by his feet. Not even sparing you a glance. 

“Do you have something to say?” It should make him mad, that you’re asking this now after seven days of him chasing you around. 

But he can’t get mad. He’s not sure he can feel a thing. “Yeah- uhm I-” Don’t say it, please don’t say it. “- you know we both don’t really do long distance, so.” 

“Hm.” It comes out as a choked sob, voice breaking and alerting him. But his eyes fall back down again. Why did he insist on this when he can’t even do it properly?

A minute goes by and you say nothing, just watch him play with the broken tile. The apartment is old but everything you ever wanted, with tiled floors and a pretty view of the city. 

“I never fixed it.” He says, pointing at the spot with the tip of his foot. “If you ask Kiri or Mina they could probably help you find a new one, replace it.” 

You know he’s not talking about himself, about your relationship. Still, it hurts. 

“I like it the way it is.”

Bakugou laughs. “It’s broken”

“It works.” He catches onto your dry tone and stops his movements, straightening out his back and looking you in the eyes.

“Do you wanna go out for a walk? It’s pretty nice out there, we could get lunch later at that place you like- what is it called? Marga? Maggie?” He’s doing the same thing you did to him, so you can’t get mad. But you do. 

“Why don’t you just break up with me already?” Make it quick so it doesn’t hurt as much.

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What? I’m trying to be nice, have a last date before-” He interrupts himself with an exasperated sigh. “You know what, fine! If you don’t want to, it's fine. I can spend the rest of the day at my parents’ if this is uncomfortable, but keep in mind I tried to do this earlier and you didn’t let me. Do you even know how I feel? I’m the asshole that’s breaking both our hearts and it’s not even my fault!” 

Bakugou’s fury has never frightened you, but his cheeks covered in tears is a horror that hunts you in your sleep. You can’t help but think of his younger self, so volatile and fragile, how he’d shoot to kill without a second thought. Now he’s matured, and it shows. You should tell him to stay, at least until he has to leave. But your pain is bigger and angrier.

“Yes, that would help a lot actually.” He’s not expecting those words, but his reaction is one proper of his persona.

“Fine. I’ll go.” 

“Fine.”

And with a slamming door he moves onto a better, greater future. 

2. (lovely, hurtful, magnetism)

It’s hot when you see him again. Todoroki has invited you over to his family’s summer house, and apparently said invitation extended over to his other group of friends. Of course you knew about this before agreeing to come, you’re not an idiot and your friend is not an actual airhead. 

sho has created the group chat  “ todoroki’s summer house ”

sho has added you

sho has added pinky

sho has added kiri

sho has added curls

sho - hi come this tuesday im staying for two weeks

sho - lmk if i forgot to add anyone

sho has added ‘ki

sho - bakugou your here for summer right

‘ki - yes 

sho - k

‘ki - and it’s you’re

sho - k

Then Ochako and Kaminari flooded your phone with messages. You texted Shouto privately, and he explained to you Bakugou had been fired. Apparently, the hero agency had been in debt for quite some time and managed to hide it, staying afloat but barely. Later this spring they began cutting people out, saying goodbye to most of their rookies- including Bakugou. You winced at the sound of his name, just imagining how much of a fit he would’ve thrown. 

sho - hes fine though

sho - got a big compensation 

(Not that you asked how he was doing, but you thanked him for the info anyways.)

Everyone in both groups heard about your breakup, either from you or from him. (this you knew because your friend, Todoroki Shouto has been part of both groups since high school) (and also because he’s a gossipy motherfucker). It didn’t come as a surprise though, they knew neither of you would agree to try- it’s self-suicide, but for romantic relationships.

Still you never expected the reunion to be so tense. 

“Hey! Hi! Oh my god it’s been ages!” Kirishima is the first of them to arrive, caging you in a reciprocated bear hug. 

“Hi Kiri, how have you been?” You’ve always liked the redhead, such a cheery, reliable person. 

“Oh you know, busy but overall fine. Hey, my moms told me they saw you at the park, you have a dog now?” His smile is so blinding for a moment you forget your manners, squinting your eyes at him. 

“Yes, yes I got a dog. Her name is Kesha.” An even brighter light invades your sight as he throws his head back laughing.

“You gotta be kidding me, Kaminari is gonna love that!” 

And then the rest come. Mina hugs you tight, a warm touch you know holds a different meaning. Momo and Jirou arrive with Ochako, the three girls sending you glances every time Kirishima observes Bakugou’s uncharacteristic unpunctuality- something you’ve been thinking about since you got here, ready to face him as the first guest. A few moments later Izuku makes his way down from the second floor, his beauty bath finally done.

“A bath? In this heat? Man you’re nuts.” Sero comments. He has a new bike, even bigger than the last one. 

Finally, once you’re all getting dinner started, Bakugou and Kaminari show up at the door. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“Dude! Traffic was crazy, I swear to god we tried our best to get here on time but- Oh! Hi!” The blonde’s eyes have found you, and god bless his soul for his lack of brain cells. “Í didn’t- I brought him” He lifts his thumb and points at Bakugou hiding behind him. “I hope that’s fine?”

They’re standing by the living room entrance, and though you both manage to avoid each other’s eyes it’s still pretty clear that this is not a comfortable situation.

“Kaminari! Bro! Guess what?” Kirishima suddenly erupts from his spot next to you on the couch, gaining all of his friend’s attention. “Her dog’s name is Kesha.” He savors every letter, slowly, making sure they get that itch behind Denki’s ears. 

Kaminari’s face lights up, mouth hanging open. “Shut up!” Before you know it, he’s squeezing himself next to you and grabbing you by the shoulders, almost forcing you to take out your phone and show him pictures of your baby. 

Meanwhile Bakugou hands the tray with the dessert to Momo, following her into the kitchen and greeting your friends. “Hi.” Nod. “Hi.” Nod. Jirou goes for a fist bump, but Ochako just sends him a bitter smile. I’m on her side.

“Bakugou, does this need extra cold? I can put it in the freezer if you want.” Momo saves him from starting a silent fight. 

“Yes, yes that’d be better. It probably melted a bit during the car ride.” His hands are sweating- have been since Kaminari picked him up at his parent’s house.

“Why’d you take so long?” Jirou’s voice joins. He’s sure she’s on his side, but he’s not willing to trust too much- after all her girlfriend is your friend. 

“That dumb idiot took a wrong turn and didn’t listen to me, I should’ve come here on my own.” 

“Yeah right, and leave him behind. Because that’s what you do with the people you care about.” Ochako’s words take a second to digest, but soon enough their venom pumps in his veins with an anger he hasn’t felt since high school. 

It’s not fair. If this is how she’s reacting, then what twisted story have you told them? Yes, he left, but you knew it would happen. You knew it and didn't want to see it until it was too late, waited until the very last minute to turn it around and make him the bad guy. You, out of everyone, villainized him. Still, he contains himself, choosing to ignore her comment and move on to join the others.

“And then he jumped on me! Out of nowhere!” Kaminari has stolen the show. He’s standing on the couch, arms everywhere and crazy eyes making sure everyone is watching him. 

Bakugou’s gaze travels down, to the spot next to him. You’re resting your head on your arm, bent over the back cushion and staring up at his friend with a soft smile on your lips. You’re pretty (prettier, he thinks, but it’s probably his mind playing tricks). Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than how you usually wear it, but it suits you (obviously). The clothes you’re wearing are new too, or at least he doesn’t remember seeing you with that shirt on. He wonders how many people have, but it only ignites a fire he worked so hard to put out. Then you turn your head and look at him. It takes him a second to realize he’s been caught, but you hold his gaze for longer than he expected so he can’t back down now.

His red eyes provoke you, starting a game you’re not sure how to win. It burns your skin. Your fun is cut short though, Ochako has entered the room and is urging you to move your ass so I can sit. Her chubby fingers find their way to your waist and tickle you out of your trance, sending Bakugou a glare once she’s got your attention. Leave her alone.

Dinner goes smoothly, you’re such a big number of people it’s hard to focus on one thing at once so it’s fine if you fuck up, no one will notice. You’re seated between Shouto and Ochako, one shielding you from your ex and the other passing the chips and sauce. 

“So, when will my suit be done?” Sero asks, lifting his voice so everyone can hear. “That’s right, she’s been assigned my suit to fix! Don’t mind me having one of the best engineers in the country working on my favor!” The table explodes in shocked gasps and jealous whines. 

“I’ve been asking for you since we got out of high school! It’s not fair!” Ochako cries.

“I told you it’s not my decision to make! They just assign them to me!” More whining. 

Todoroki takes a sip of his non-alcoholic cider and decides to open his big mouth. “But in short time it will be.” After that they all fall silent, the sound of his sipping the only noise.

Then the room erupts again. Questions here and there, a few guesses to your answer. Are you moving away? Please don’t leave us! Omg please tell me it’s Best Jeanist!

It takes a moment to calm them down, and some extra work to make Kaminari stop throwing wild guesses at you. “I actually have a few offers-” you raise your hands up to stop them from invoking chaos again, “-one is abroad, yes.” An echo of ooohs is heard. “But the best option is right here, in this city.” You know that answer won’t satisfy them, they won’t stop bugging until you give them a name. They stare, expectantly. “The Bakugou’s are expanding their fashion industry and going into hero design, so they need an engineer and apparently I’m the best one they know.” Momo and Ochako have lost their smiles, Izuku is holding his breath and Shouto is eating salad. You thank every celestial being for Tsuyu’s absence, or else she would have spat hurtful facts right then and there. “It’s actually a really good job offer. I’ve known them for ages, so I trust them enough to suggest any changes if needed, and I’ll get to run the engineering department, so I’ll basically be the boss!” Sero and Mina look at each other, and you know they want to be supportive, but the air has suddenly grown dense. Bakugou hasn’t uttered a word, eyes fixed on his food but he’s not eating. “I could finally take in your requests, fix your suits, and all that.” Your voice grows smaller with every sentence you speak, feeling like all of this was a huge mistake. It feels wrong to add that you’ve already accepted this offer, that you’re starting in a few weeks. 

“That’s good, you’ve always wanted your own workshop and you’re good at managing people. Congratulations.” Bakugou says through greeted teeth, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat. His eyes are on yours again. Yes, your body is definitely burning up. 

You give him a tight smile, fighting the urge to cringe at yourself. It’s infuriatingly exciting how giddy you feel, shy but in a good way, wanting more.  

“Who wants dessert?” Shouto has finished his salad, and though he’s the only one with a clean plate nothing will come between him and his sweets (you’ll hold him accountable for his youngest child behavior later).

(Momo pulls you apart before going to bed, she just wants to make sure you’ve thought this trough. It’s his parents I’m working for, not him. She doesn’t insist, trusting you’re grown enough to know what you’re getting into.)

-

The following days are spent as you had imagined. Lots of food, pool days, karaoke nights, card games, Kaminari getting sunburnt, more food and maybe some peace and quiet.

“Why didn’t Iida come?” Denki asks during breakfast one day and everyone looks at him incredulously. He’s already done, swinging himself on a hammock and staring at the Todoroki’s huge garden. The silence makes him shift in place.  “What?”

“Dude, he’s been in the states for about a year now.” He left around the same time as Bakugou did. But Iida is not really his friend, so he wouldn’t know.  

“No way! What about his girlfriend? Did he leave her?” Just as always, Kaminari Denki doesn’t think twice before speaking. He gets the same stares as before, but this time no one answers.

You sigh and say- “They broke up.”

“Oh man, so he did leave her behind.” 

“No, they broke up dumbass. They talked like adults and realized it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t leave her.” Bakugou sounds defensive, one more stupid question away from skinning his friend alive. 

“It happens Denks.” You can’t believe you’re the ones having this conversation, especially when neither of you could do it back then. 

“Oh, oh. Right, sorry my bad.” 

Everyone’s plates are empty, so you take it as your chance to get up and flee back inside to the kitchen. If your eagerness at cleaning dirty dishes exposes your true feelings they don’t say, and you don’t care. 

You try not to blame Denki, but it’s because of him you’re now thinking about that awful week. It’s been almost a year, yet you still can’t get his words out of your head. You should’ve stopped him, accepted his offer for a last date and locked that memory within the confines of your heart. But instead, you stood and watched it all burn down. 

A rattle of glass against glass startles you, and you turn to see Bakugou has placed a tray of cutlery and plates on the counter. He takes a look at your gloved hands under the water and furrows his brows.

“What are you doing? What's wrong with their dishwasher?” He immediately falls down to his knees, eyeing the machine with touchy hands- like a dad. You get rid of that thought as soon as it appears, not willing to go down that road today. 

“Shouto said it’s broken, overflows and ends up flooding the whole place.” 

“Hm.” 

His presence makes your tummy feel warm even after all this time. Of course, for years you thought you’d marry him, build your own house on the beachside and start a family together. Bakugou had always wanted a daughter, a little demon stronger than him, someone he could swing around in his arms and wrestle once big enough. 

“I’ll go fetch some tools, see if I can get this working.” You know he won’t be able to fix it, you took a look as soon as you got here, and since you’re the engineer between the heroes it would be smart to trust your judgment. But Bakugou likes to feel useful, so you let him be.

Not even two minutes later he’s back at your side, sitting on the floor with one leg over the other and his face buried in the dishwasher- mumbling ‘fuck is this’s and ‘the hell’s. 

“Nah, this shit is broken broken.” He says as he gets up from the ground. You stifle a giggle and focus on the never-ending pile in front of you, extending onto the counter on your left side. “You’re not done yet? What’s with all this mess, who left the dinner dishes there?” 

“Sero and Shouto were on cleaning duty last night.” After years of dealing with those boys, your answer is enough to explain today’s disaster. 

Bakugou’s face turns into a scowl, vein popping on the side of his forehead. “Those damn, spoiled brats, I swear to god I don’t understand why I’m still friends with them, they're so- infuriating.” His rant against his friends makes you smile against your will. “I’ll dry them off, but you’ll have to tell me where they go ‘cause this fucking house is a labyrinth.” 

His eyes meet yours for the third time this week, and you find the same burning flame staring back- just like the old times. 

He works in silence, taking a knife and wiping it, waiting for you to point at the first drawer in the right corner. Then he grabs a pot, wincing when he bumps it against a glass and makes a horrible noise. Bottom cabinet to the right. The domesticity of the situation freezes your heart and makes your mind race. His calloused hands are still as gentle as you remember them, handling every object with the same care he used to hold your face. 

“How were things in your new home? Did you like it?” You’re the first to break the silence. 

Bakugou hates small talk, but something tells him you genuinely want to know. Was it worth it? 

He cleans his throat before saying- “Yes, it was… something.” He swallows. 

You know what you’re doing, it’s not nice but you can’t stop. “Did you make any friends?” He didn’t, you know it takes him six months to see a stranger is also a human being and an extra four months to gather the courage to talk to them (if they don’t make one (1) mistake and ruin it all).

“No.” You know what you’re doing, and you know he knows it too. “I didn’t have much time, working as a rookie is not so fun so I focused on getting promoted. Also, my peers weren’t the most accepting, so I figured why bother?”  

Oh. You go back in your tracks and lower your weapon. “Sorry to hear that.” You take the dish soap and pour some over the sponge. “Did they say something? Or do something?” You tread cautiously, fearing his answer might be a yes. 

“Nah, not directly to me but they made sure to express their opinions.” It’s not the first time it’s happened, but he can see your shoulders tense. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it so it’s not a big deal anymore. Most people are shit, and the heroics field isn’t the most queer-friendly environment, so I didn’t go in expecting a welcoming party.”  

You should feel ashamed, attacking one of his weak spots and ending up being you who needs reassurance. Still you can’t stop picturing him avoiding dressing rooms, sulking back to an empty apartment and showering in hot enough water to boil away the day. You want to rip to shreds the smiles of those who hurt him, drill into their empty heads and hand them out to an agonizing death. It’s silly, he’s a grown man, not that angry kid anymore. He doesn’t need your protection, he never has. Bakugou has gone through hell and come back alive, stronger than ever, so you want to believe him when he says it's fine. 

“It still shouldn’t be like that, you know, normal.” His hand goes over the same spot again and again, wiping the already dry plate with the kitchen cloth. 

“Yeah it shouldn’t, but it is, so.” He thinks his answer is a bit too negative, too sad. Bakugou doesn’t enjoy drawing the victim card, but he knows it sticks to him everywhere he goes though it's invisible to most. “Don’t think I always accept that, you know that if needed I will stand my ground. This time it wasn’t so smart to fight, but the next time it may be worth it.” 

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.” You’re still inside your own head, going through every shitty experience he must have had. Why do you do this to yourself? 

After a moment of silence he cleans his throat one more time, deciding to change the subject.

“Hey, sorry for Kaminari. Not just today but back to the first day, he’s been acting weird because I told him not to act weird around you. Should’ve known it would backfire.” 

“Don’t worry, he’s just… not aware of many things.” You gift him a tight-lipped smile. It’s okay, everything is fine.

“Yeah well, I guess you’re used to Shouto who’s actually worse. That menace, I bet It’s not a coincidence I’m here as well.” 

His comment takes you off guard, and it makes you giggle. Bakugou smiles, eyes softening at the sight, and he laughs too. 

You have to admit you thought the same, not really convinced with his “I miss my buddies” act. Your friend is known for proclaiming himself as a professional matchmaker, so when you heard his brilliant idea you had your suspicions. “Ugh don’t even mention it, I interrogated him for days, but he never broke.”

“He’s too strong.” He’s joking, and you’re laughing. If you stop for a second to take in what’s going on you're sure you’ll cry. “Though if he actually had a plan, he wouldn’t have invited Ochako. God I swear she probably has a voodoo doll of me hidden under her pillow, pokes it with needles every time she goes to bed.” 

“Hey! Don’t talk about my girl like that! She would never.” Feigning seriousness, you look him dead in the eye, then letting out a snort that evolves into a full-on cackle, not even believing the bullshit you’re saying. Of course she would do it, and more. 

“Right, sure.” He rolls his eyes.

You take some time to regain your breath, holding a hand over your stomach to stop the pain. 

Bakugou stares, has been doing so since he got here. “What?” You’re still trying to compose yourself, lose hairs falling in front of your eyes. He swallows. 

“It’s nice to see you happy.” His words are genuine. Soft. 

You take a deep breath and straighten your back, grabbing another dish. “In general? Or because you’re the one making me laugh?” 

He can tell you don’t mean to attack him, after years by your side he’d recognize your teasing tone anywhere. “Why not both?” 

It’s funny, to be in this position. You with your hands soaked, the useless gloves only for decoration, and Bakugou with a kitchen cloth in hand doing part of his work as well. A familiar feeling makes its way up your throat, and you push it down. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Two months.” He answers quickly, like if he takes too long you might slip away. Bakugou never hopes, but for you he’d even pray. 

“Hm.” Many things could happen in two months, but not enough to leave a scar, you think. “Where are you going after that?” You turn the tap off and turn around, leaning back against the sink and watching his arms flex as he stretches to place a glass in the top cabinet. His muscles have gotten bigger, you’ve seen his naked body a million times, but here up close and clothed it holds a different meaning- forbidden. Tempting. 

He stares back, eyes flying down to your lips and back to your eyes. “I got a contact in this other agency, says there’ll be an open spot for me.” Same old story. But you’re not the same old you. 

“Hm.” 

-

Your back hits the mattress but you’ve got no time to complain, as a blonde mop of hair kneels between your legs and lifts up your summer dress. Bakugou’s tongue is buried inside your cunt, nose nudging at your clit and hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs wide open. A desperate whine leaves your mouth, and you curse yourself for your lack of restraint, giving in so easily to the man you’ve cried rivers for. 

His bare back is displayed beneath you, and you take it as your chance to scratch it, leaving marks for the world to see. This time Bakugou is the one moaning, sending the vibrations straight into your core, an arch forming at the low of your back. “Fuck, Katsuki.” He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, devouring you even more intently. Your hands move up to tangle in his ashy strands, pulling and gaining a different sound each time. It’s hot, seeing him so pliant, panting between your folds and determined to make you reach heaven. 

His tongue abandons your hole and is replaced by two fingers, moving up to lap at your clit as he fucks into you- hitting that gummy spot that makes you see stars. “Shit sh-there! Right there ‘suki ah-” His name gets shorter with every thrust, planting in his mind the goal of turning you nonverbal.  

Even once you reach your high, he’s still on you. Slightly mean at first, not leaving you alone and overstimulating you. But finishing off with a peck to your nub, sweet, loving. He lifts himself up and lays next to you on the unmade bed, left arm across your rib cage and nose buried in your neck. For a second your mind conjures up images of him loving other people, but it all quickly fades away. Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t have sex, he makes love. He shows it in the way he touches you, not to take but to give, not because he’s thirsty but because he simply cares. The reminder threatens to awaken your fight or flight responses, but his strong arms keep you grounded. This is not love making, the weight of your soul has left an indent in his heart so it’s natural for him to want you. So you lie to yourself, convincing your heart he’s not here because he loves you but because you’re familiar. (It’s to no use, the flaming passion in his eyes is not lust and you know that, but you can’t admit this is a mistake. Not yet)

Without waiting any longer, and trying not to give it much thought, you manage to turn him around, so he lays on his back. The scars decorating his torso shine in the morning light seeping through the curtains, and your hand follows the line of every healed wound. His arm hairs raise up and his breath hatches, eyes burning into yours. 

Wet lips meet his neck, making their way down to his chest and when you kiss under his nipples his eyes fill with tears. It’s been so long since he’s felt this, the touch of someone who knows how to touch him, how to love him. Bakugou’s mouth is dry but the place between his legs isn’t. Should he stop you? What if it’s too late to try this? What if he no longer likes it? More questions flood his mind, and by the time he’s reached absurdity you’re already taking his shorts off. 

His body has already surrendered to you, but his mind is still spinning in the same spot. What if you no longer like him? But you do, because you don’t dive into him like a feral animal but go down slowly instead, taking your time and giving him space to grow used to the sensations. On you this would feel painfully slow, too boring, not enough. But on him it’s paradise. Your tongue has wandered every inch of his cunt, but has yet to kiss his clit, pulsating expectantly. Bakugou’s tummy fills with butterflies, and you smile at the sight of fists closed around a handful of cover sheets- head to the side, your scent impregnated on the pillow makes him go nuts. More. But he doesn’t ask for it, because he knows it will be too much. Instead, he enjoys your sweet torture, edging him closer with every second. 

The art of eating out Bakugou Katsuki is one you’re proud to say you’ve mastered. It took time, first he had to let you in and then you had to learn how to do it the way he liked it. Everyone knows he’s a control freak, so his performance in bed was never a surprise to you. He knew what he wanted and if you couldn’t give it to him then he didn’t want you- deeming you useless and unworthy. 

He’s putty in your hands, giving in to your touch and trusting you won’t hurt him. When he cums he’s silent, but not quiet. Deep, shaky breaths and eyes squeezed shut, trying to come back down from his high before his face turns red- still that shy boy you fell in love with. 

This sequence keeps repeating itself in your head for the next two days, until it manifests in real life again. And again. And again.

Bakugou’s hands seem to always find their way onto your skin, no matter where you are. His arms wrap around you from behind as he follows you into the garage- down and settling on your lower belly, thumbs slipping underneath your top and trailing up your belly button. The rest of your friends are all by the pool, waiting for you to grab the beach ball. Wet kisses down your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh. Why were you here again?

His nose tickles your ear, and you giggle, grabbing onto his hands and keeping them from climbing upwards. “If I don’t go out there soon they’ll send in Kaminari, or worse. Ochako.” His face scrunches up at the sound of her name. 

“They won’t find us if we go upstairs and stay quiet.” Kiss, nip, kiss. Face now buried on your shoulder. 

“Katsuki…” 

And the never-ending cycle would start again. Your friends pretty much already know by now, though you’re surprised they haven’t tried to talk you out of it yet. Todoroki is the only one who’s shown his support, (eager to indulge in his mischief) continuing to create situations where you’re both forced to be left alone together.

There’s no more bread? Why don’t you go? Bakugou go with her so she doesn’t get lost. 

Hey. You’re both on cleaning duty for the night.  

Bakugou take my seat. I want to be next to Sero. 

Ochako still sends him nasty glares, but she hasn’t objected. 

-

Once your little vacation is over, you all go back to your normal boring lives, and you have to come to terms with the sad realization that your daydream is over. Except Bakugou still has a month and a half left. He’ll be staying over at his parents, maybe you’ll get to see him more often, now that you’re working for them. It’s a tricky thought, you tell yourself you’re not eager to see him, you’re just excited about this new opportunity and it’s got nothing to do with him. 

“Hey son, why don’t you help us out? There are some prototypes that need testing.” Masaru has always liked you two together, inviting you over for dinner even more often this past year now that his only boy isn’t close. 

“Sure”

It’s all a trick. His dad leaves it all to you, excusing himself out of the workshop and never coming back. You’re stuck with seven arm weapon prototypes and a tall, blushing man. 

Bakugou feels dumb, like a little kid. He can’t understand what is so special about your greasy fingers dancing all over his skin as you secure the arm cannon. Maybe you’re too close, and between his elevated body temperature and the growing heat in the studio it’s only natural his cheeks will burn. Again, dumb. He’s been closer to you, much closer, just a week ago. His face had been suffocating against your own heat for fucks sake, and he didn’t feel like fainting back then. 

“It’s so tight, I don’t think it’ll be safe to-”

“Just put it on!” He can’t stand your mumbling and poor wording, not right now. Still there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from picturing you above him, chest heaving and covered in sweat as you try to fill him up with your pink stra-

“There we go! Holy shit that was hard.” 

Though Bakugou is not a fan of this reacquired excitement after months of relying solely on the use of his own fingers, it’s still not what rules his worries. It’s been years since he’s accepted the fact that yes, he wants you and there’s nothing he can do about it- but it’d be dumb to leave out the fact that his reaction has a cause, and it’s directly connected to his heart. At first, he thought he’d be able to just enjoy your touch, but now he finds himself craving a different sort of intimacy, one he’s not sure you’ll be willing to give to him. 

Still, he manages, stealing soft kisses when you’re too occupied moaning into his ear, holding you closer than what’s proper for two people in your situation. You don’t push him away when he stays the night, or when he shamelessly shows up announced with a bag of take out in hand. Cuddles after sex is one of his rules so you don’t get to complain against it, but he’s not sure how appropriate it is to press his body onto yours with the thought of fusing your souls into one. All he does know is that you always give in, as if you want it as much as he does. 

Your hands travel up and down his spine, jumping from freckle to scar to freckle again. His breathing is steady, unlike moments ago. It’s contagious, the warmth his body irradiates as it lays on top of yours, filling you with serenity. Your fingers scratch his undercut and his body shifts, pressing you further against the mattress in his childhood bed. Katsuki turns his head and leaves a trail of pecks on the side of your neck, igniting a rush of goosebumps down your arms and legs. You feel him smile against your skin. 

“It’s really going to hurt this time.” Your words break the lovely bubble that surrounds you. 

Unlike the last time, you and Bakugou have been talking. A lot. About his future, and about your current present. He’s made it clear he’s still leaving, and you’ve promised yourself not to blame him. You choose to be with him right now, even if it’ll break you later. 

The blonde lets out a heavy sigh, his rib cage expanding against your tummy. You wish you could turn him into a pocket size human, you’d keep him with you at all times and take him everywhere you go. 

“Yeah, it’ll be pretty shitty.” 

He wishes you’d ask him to stay. Just one word and he’d throw everything out the window, forcing himself down your throat and getting comfy in the nooks of your heart. He knows you’ll never say it- no, you’d never do that to him. And he wouldn’t ask it of you, to leave your dream behind and join him. He’s not that selfish. 

-

The drive to the airport seems too short. Before you know it, he’s already done his check-in, standing in front of his parents and getting ready to say goodbye. You can’t help but think this is how it should’ve been the last time. He shouldn’t have boarded that plane with the bitter remnants of a breakup lingering on his tongue, as he’s set to face a new place all by himself. No, this time you’re doing it right. 

Mitsuki holds on to him for a while, judging his choice of clothes and asking for the hundredth time if he’s got his passport with him. “Ma, I’ve got everything so quit your worrying.” His tone is rough, just like his mother’s. “I promise I’ll call you when we Iand, okay?” 

She sniffs and fights to hold back the tears, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at the ground. Masaru’s eyes have been red and puffy since he got out of the car, he’s already done his fair share of crying and pulls his wife closer to soothe her sadness. 

Finally, he turns to look at you. He’s as stiff as a board, straight back and heavy eyes. But his lips quiver for a second, as he extends his arms out to you for a hug. You let him wrap you up in his warmth, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his smell for one last time- you wish you could store it in a bottle, take it with you at all times.

Bakugou kisses the top of your head and nuzzles his face into your hair, exhaling loudly. “I’m gonna miss you.” He whispers it, only meant for you to hear.

You don’t say it back, doing so will only be grieving in advance a loss that hasn’t happened yet. For this moment, right now, he’s still yours. 

A voice over the speakers calls for the passengers of his flight, and he has to let go of you. Yet his hands are still on the small of your back, fingers clasped together and eyes now staring at yours. He leans down and kisses your forehead, then your nose and eventually your lips. 

“Katsuki, don’t.” 

But he doesn’t listen, moving his hands to cradle your face and inch closer until his open mouth is set atop of yours. The voice echoes through the speakers and he deepens the kiss. When you break apart your face is wet, tears decorate your cheeks just like his. 

With your foreheads pressed together he says it again. “I’ll miss you.” You push him away, pulling every ugly face available to stop you from breaking down in front of him. 

You watch him disappear in the sea of people and suitcases. A gentle hand squeezes your shoulder. Mitsuki. She looks even worse than you, and you can tell this isn’t as bad as the first time. You hug her, hiding your face in the crook of her neck and finally letting it all out. 

The ride back home is silent, though Masaru tries to cheer you all up with work talk. It makes you smile; how different he is from his son.

And you cry again. 

3. (rotten core, predictable mistakes)

“Bakugou?” 

The other side of the screen emits only silence. Maybe if you weren’t being woken up at four in the morning, you’d be able to distinguish his breathing.

“Hello?” you try again.

This time you hear some ruffling, it’s not paper but it isn’t bed sheets either. At least it means he’s right there. Luckily your tired mind is too slow to jump to the worst-case scenario, so before you start picturing him lying on the floor of his apartment all bloody and bruised, he’s already speaking.

“I saw your picture, the one you sent me yesterday.” You can tell he’s been crying. “I was busy, so I guess I didn't realize I had opened your chat. I liked the dog, the one with the green collar.”

This is the fourth time this month. Lately you’ve both been very busy, finally falling into your usual schedules and being swallowed by work. The first months after your summer adventures were heaven, some part of you still believes that might have all been a dream.

He was so sweet, so present. You were so eager, genuinely happy. Even if he wasn’t next to you, Bakugou would have the decency to call you during lunch break instead of ungodly hours, always keeping in mind your normal work shifts in comparison to his. He would tell you about his day and you would ramble about your own stuff, exchanging pictures and sometimes videos. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t strangers either. 

Back then it wasn’t hard for you to text him good morning and check the weather in his city to remind him to take a coat with him to work. None of it was necessary but you knew it made him start the day with a smile drawn on his face.

Half into the second month, things started to fall apart. Hero work got real, with all that it entails. Bakugou’s battered face would appear on the news and you’d run to the phone, calling his parents when he wouldn’t pick up. You knew what it meant to love someone like him, with a job like this. But it was different when you couldn’t be by his side. Mitsuki and Masaru understood you, letting you stay over at their house to be there when news came. Still, that didn’t stop you from bombarding his phone, planting the seed of a possible fight. If only you could just not care.

The first real argument you had over the phone was one you should’ve seen coming. Bakugou had his ass beaten by a villain and didn’t give signs of life for a whole week. He didn’t text any of his friends, nor his parents, and he obviously didn’t talk to you. You weren’t really dating after all so you shouldn’t have expected special treatment.

“Could you fucking stop.” Those were the first words he said to you.

You had stopped calling and resigned to just text him, like everyone else did. But when his contact showed up on your screen during a shift at work, you dropped everything to answer.

“I’m fine just- I need to be alone.” He didn’t wait for you to say anything, just hung up on you.

You’d known Bakugou for years, enough to know he’s not a loser. These recent encounters with villains had left him rather… sensitive. Maybe you were used to his strenuous confidence, acting as a cover for his own insecurities hidden deep below his ego- it wasn’t weird to see him down, but it wasn’t common for him to not try to get back up. So naturally you worried. Everyone did.

For the following week all you did was wait for his call. Feeling as useless as ever. Little by little he started to talk again, first a picture of a stray cat, followed by a good morning text. Things were almost back to how they used to be before. You avoided hero talk, and he started to call more often. You could see he was sorry, though he never apologized for disappearing and leaving you sick worried for a week, he was desperately trying to make it up to you.

After that the midnight calls became a thing. You were too busy at work, not as eager to chat during lunch break- your only break. Going back home and just passing out, only picking up the phone to order some food and check emails. You talked to his parents a few times about him. The three of you agreed that he needed help, whether it was therapy or friends, Bakugou wasn’t made for bottling up- but that’s just exactly what he was known for. Still, you never suggested it, never even mentioned it. You were too tired, too busy, and he was too far, too stubborn. When he took notice of your distance, he panicked.

“Bakugou? It’s one a.m what happened?” The first time he called you were scared. Body jumping straight into action, ready to run over to his parents and find a way to help him out.

“I'm fine! Don’t worry I- I just wanted to talk. We haven’t in a while, you know.”

You were happy at first, something about these talks made a rush of excitement run through your body, like a kid breaking curfew. There was an unfamiliar sincerity in his voice, it made your heart ache, but you were glad he was reaching out for help. 

Then it became too much. He was too anxious, too volatile. And somehow, always too late.

“You looked pretty too.” I should be holding you close. “My mom told me you started-”

“Katsuki.” You cut him off, tired of hearing him dance around what he actually wants to say.

“Hm? What?” 

You leave an open spot, the chance for him to finally say it.

“I miss you.” He doesn’t, so you do. Still a coward. 

His stutter reaches your ear, more ruffling and tussling. What on earth is he doing? 

“Got my scarf stuck on my zipper, sorry.” 

Distance does something weird to the man you love, it reminds you why you never took the risk. 

You curl your body into a ball, hidden under the covers with your phone laying on the mattress next to your head. “Katsuki.” Tears begin to fall down. 

“Hm?” You wonder if he knows what’s coming. He probably does.

“Don’t call me anymore. Please.” You whisper the words, trying to dull the edge of the blade. 

He hangs up on you without giving an answer. You know he’s crying right now, and the thought makes the pain unbearable. 

The next morning you wake up and decide to text him a picture of your window. It’s raining outside and there's a rainbow in the sky. It’s pretty, maybe it’ll cheer him up. You regret your actions, but know they were necessary.

Bakugou takes two weeks to answer your texts, which are very few ‘cause apparently, you’re busy and don’t have as much time for him. He knows what he was doing wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t have to drop it on him like that. Still, he wants you, if this is all you can offer, he’ll take it. 

katsuki - I tried frozen yogurt today

you - was it good?

katsuki - image 

katsuki - yes

It drives him nuts. Six months ago, you were sleeping in his arms, resting your chin on his chest and staring up at him with doe eyes. Six months ago, you were his and he was yours. Six months ago, he was loved. 

His fellow heroes are nice people, that’s the worst part. This is what he wants, but he can’t bring himself to fully enjoy it. You’re everywhere. 

you - look at this

you - image

you - he’s an idiot

A picture of Shouto’s face shines on his screen. He still is in his hero costume, but there’s wax bands covering where his attempt at a mustache should be. You sent it three hours ago, so he doesn’t respond- it’s late where you are and he doesn’t want to wake you. That day he goes to sleep with an ugly sensation settling into the pit of his stomach. Shouto is his friend, and your friend as well. But it’s been so long since he last talked to him, the pro hero could steal you without a hint of guilt in his iced heart. For a moment he forgets he’s talking about Deku’s husband, the same gay guy he’s known since he was fifteen. 

“He still could do it.” You could turn a gay man straight; he has no proof but no doubts either. 

And Todoroki loves like him, soft and quiet. No sex. Maybe he could be your type. Hell even a platonic relationship would work out, he knows the half and half bastard is down to it. Bakugou remembers their long night talks at the dorms, that time when Mina came out and Shouto said he didn’t like sex. It took Katsuki a while to realize his apple didn’t fall far from their tree, mainly because he couldn’t picture himself living in that body back then, so there was no use in worrying about things he would never try. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I would love to spend the rest of my days with a loved one. But I don’t want romance, does that make sense? I’ve heard people date, but they don’t really- it’s like a really intense friendship.”

“All your friendships are intense, Mina.”

“Yes! Exactly, I would settle down with any- with all of you! I would love to sleep in the same bed and kiss your cheeks and raise children together! Kiri we could get a dog!” She had gained puzzled stares, a room full of boys in a binary world. 

“Can we get a kitten too?” Todoroki wasn’t much of a talker, compared to his present self he was basically a statue.

“Of course!”

“And I want my own room, I don’t like sharing beds with people.” 

“Sure! Anything you want!” 

He wonders if you’d like that. Maybe you’d move in with him and Deku, give them kids even.

Bakugou catches himself before falling down into that spiral, getting under the shower and turning on the cold water, letting it wash away his delusions. It’s his friends he’s talking about, they’d never do him so dirty. But maybe, for your happiness… 

It’s your life, you can do whatever you want. 

The thoughts accumulate and he pushes them to the back of his head, there’s more important things to fill that space with. Bakugou listens to your request and stops calling, maybe takes it too far when he starts ignoring your messages. It’s better this way. You’re not going to wait for him and he’s not going back, so why should he bother keeping in touch if it’s only gonna hurt you both? 

If we ever broke up, would we still be friends? 

Your words haunt him. His answer back then had been a simple no, because he was young and stubborn and couldn’t imagine a world in which he wasn’t your lover. Now that’s the world he lives in, and his answer remains the same. 

4. (closing act)

Ten months and twenty-seven days. One winter, one spring and one summer since you last spoke to Katsuki. You don’t blame him. 

sho - he doesn’t have to come

sho- i can always see him some other day

The holidays are just around the corner and all of your hero friends are taking time off- finally. All of them, including Bakugou. To be honest you didn’t expect him to accept Shouto’s invitation, knowing you are gonna be there as well and considering everything that had gone down between you two. Maybe he’s no longer offended, willing to be civilized and even friendly. It's  been a while. Still, you don’t get your hopes up. 

you - don’t worry i’m cool with it 

sho - k

It sucks to share friends with him, even though you've always been sure Shouto would never take a side, this time it feels like he has. He may not be as keen on hurting him as Ochako is, but he’s shared his thoughts on his friend’s behavior- I understand the need to flee, talking about emotions can be very frightening, but he’s a grown man. And most important, he was your friend once. I can’t imagine fighting with you and not trying to make up right after, I also can’t imagine him wanting that. It’s strange, maybe he needs time to sort things out. 

Again, you don’t blame him. You were the one who cut him off. You were the one who stopped texting when he stopped answering., knowing damn well he's not one to chase. You both gave up. 

sho - just now im here for you

Back again at Todoroki’s summer house, but now fully prepared for the winter season, you feel tiny. Small. There’s so many people everywhere you look it’s a bit overwhelming. One catch of ashy blonde hair has you meddling with strangers, starting small talks and pushing champagne down your throat. All to forget about his presence, to keep you busy and out of his way. And Bakugou does the same, avoiding entering any room you walk in, sticking to Kirishima’s side until he warns him- “I’m gonna go say hi, but you can wait here if it’s too awkward-” “Tch, fuck off.” 

The Christmas decorations are pretty, the big, ornamented tree in the living room gets all the compliments but your eyes are set on the gingerbread cookies Fuyumi brought. 

“You seriously made this?” She nods, a proud smile spreading on her lips. Her mother joins her side, hugging her arm and resting her head on her shoulder. 

“They’re so pretty my love.” Rei's voice is sweet and tender, motherly. 

It’s nice to see them happy. 

You settle next to them at the dinner table, asking about Touya’s recovery and Natsu’s absence. A few years ago they would’ve deflated, Rei would’ve excused herself to the bathroom leaving Fuyumi to answer all the harsh questions. Now their eyes shimmer and shine, the boys are doing well! Touya is still in rehab and looking better every day, showing signs of a possible re-integration into society which excites and frightens them at the same time. 

“They told us there may be a chance he relapses, but it’s the risk to take if he wants to have a normal life.” 

The shortest of the siblings is spending the holidays in Okinawa with his fiancé’s family, and you let out an audible gasp at the news.

“He’s engaged? Shouto! That little bastard didn’t tell me- oh! I’m gonna rip him to shreds!” 

Your voice is unescapable. Bakugou can hear you laugh, hiss, complain and even pout form his seat at the far end of the table, away from you. He had forced Kirishima to a secluded spot, between some B-list heroes Shouto is friends with- his social butterfly of a friend moping next to him. 

“Why is she so fucking loud.” It’s not a question, and it’s only meant for Kirishima, but the brunette on his other side sends him a nasty side eye. 

“Dude, you’re being rude.” Eijirou warns him, longingly staring at his friends conversing on the opposite end.

“And she’s being annoying.” That earns him a smack to his head, which he fully accepts as the words of his childhood therapist echoe in his mind. 

That anger, that fury you’re throwing at others, it’s fully yours. You have to listen to it, not push it deep and far away, otherwise it’s going to come up in a violent spurt and it’ll harm you and the ones you love. Being strong is all about letting yourself be weak, Katsuki. 

He wishes he were in the mood to channel that energy. 

“You’re such a dick!” Though he does find your voice infuriating, he still can’t help looking at you. Arms up in the air and ready to slap Todoroki across the face. If he weren’t feeling so bitter, he’d laugh. “I’m calling him once we’re done eating, I can’t believe neither of you said anything! This is a big thing!” 

“I'll let you put rockets in my suit's pants as a revenge.” Shouto is joking but his face muscles stay unmoving. 

“Wait, you’re the one who works with the Bakugou’s? I knew your face sounded familiar!” Patch, Shouto’s sidekick, shines a bright smile your way. “That must be so cool!” 

He’s barely twenty, a cheery boy with dimples like Deku’s. “Yeah, it is pretty awesome. I designed Ingenium’s last costume upgrade, don’t know if you’ve seen it. With the boosters.” Todoroki drama long forgotten; you dive in for a possibly new client.

“Oh I did! And the little refreshing station, I watched a video of a dutch engineer breaking down the mechanics behind it and it was crazy!” His excitement is contagious, fills your chest with pride and suddenly you’re bragging about your other inventions, showering in compliments and enjoying every single second of it. 

Most eyes are on you, and little by little everyone joins in on your conversation. Everyone but him. 

“Man, I wanted so badly to be part of the support team when I was a kid!” 

“It’s never too late to try, we could use more hands honestly.” 

“I don’t know,” Suna says, because yes now you’re on a first name basis, “I’ve worked so hard to become a hero- I can’t back down now you know.”

Ugh, same old story.

You sigh and tch at him. “You heroes are all the same. Still, I stand by what I said, it’s never too late. There’s no shame in waking up tomorrow and deciding you want to quit, open a bakery and live a simple life.”

You can feel Bakugou’s response before you hear it, buzzing in your ears like a memorized speech from a long time ago. He straightens his back, trying to seem as big as possible and opening his big, loud, mouth.

“Don’t say that to the kid. He’s gotta fight for what he wants, if he thinks he can make it he shouldn’t give up just ‘cause he’s scared.” It’s the first thing he has said to you all night. And it’s not a bark but he sure as hell is showing his teeth. 

“Oh Dynamight sir! Don’t worry, I’m not quitting. It’s just a silly little dream of mine, sort of a if I weren’t a hero what would I be? kinda thing. A plan B.” His chubby cheeks are as red as Katsuki’s ears, hands waving apologetically.

Rolling your eyes, you stop Suna's hands and throw him an apologetic smile, turning back to face your ex. “I’m not telling him to quit, Bakugou.” You grit your teeth, trying your best to keep your composure and not ruin dinner for everyone else. “He was admiring my work and I encouraged him to do whatever he wants, whether it’s hero work or to help from the sidelines.” 

With tense shoulders and walls built all the way up, you wait for the explosion. But he doesn’t fight back- not that it was a fight, not nearly an argument, no. Still he takes his plate and gets up, followed by Kirishima and Mina as they excuse themselves. You stay and reassure the poor rookie, looking pale and mumbling so sorry’s with his head hanging low. Ochako gives you a look from the other side of the table, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips. Looks like someone is in a bad mood. 

The rest of the evening goes according to plan- Shouto’s plan (which is actually Fuyumi’s). Dessert is served along with champagne, white sparkly alcohol setting the Christmassy mood. You can tell your friend was able to slide his ideas past his sister’s filters as you dig your teeth into a chocolate chip cupcake with an icing decoration that simulates a snowman. That last interaction with Bakugou has left you uneasy, making out his face in places he actually isn’t and wondering if you did give bad advice to a soon-to-be hero.

Though it’s an opinion you’ve had for many years, it is heavily interlaced with your own experience. With him. But how could it not be? Your ex-boyfriend is the perfect example, the on-going, repetitive case of the big, scary hero who will throw everything out the window for a chance at greatness. Yes, there’s people with ambition, it happens to those who have big dreams that aren’t easy to obtain. Then there’s heroes. It’s not bad if a medical student wants to drop out and give out midway, to quit and major in arts- it sure is a hell of a decision to make, but it’s not the end of a world. But heroes, they believe that because their jobs are strictly connected to saving people’s lives and making the world a better place, there’s not such a thing as quitting. And people think so too, condemning those who dare take a step back and judging the ones who refuse to go down that path, no matter how helpful their quirks are. So, to have superiors like Bakugou who can’t give in to their weaknesses and take a minute to think about themselves only contributes to the problem. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tsuyu’s voice interrupts your internal monologue, and it’s only then you realize you’ve been ruminating on the very same topic you’ve been wishing to avoid tonight. Past mistakes and lost chances.

Still your head is running, making it hard to figure out what people are saying- there’s a voice at the back telling you to go mend things with him, one you try very hard to ignore. Stretching your neck and standing on tippy toes, you look for him and find him standing on the other side of the room, of course. His huge form blocks the staircase, where both Mina and Kirishima are seated and talking animatedly. 

“Hm. I´ll be right back.”

Pushing through the bodies you manage to reach where he stands, taking a deep breath before poking his shoulder. You feel like a little kid, just like back then when you were fifteen with a massive crush on that demon boy two years older than you. Blonde spiky hair, black nails and dark eyeliner, a toothy grin that made your heart beat rapidly (everyone’s did, but mostly out of fear). That time Hatsume found out about your little boy crush and tried to set you up, only to get rejected in front of the whole school. (he wasn’t interested in dating; he didn’t do girly stuff- and you probably wouldn't’ want him if you knew just how much he had in common with you)

Katsuki turns around with a scowl, facade fading as soon as he recognizes your face, but building his walls back up once he remembers your status. 

“What?” He means to hurt, scare you away, but you’ve fought enough times with him to know what really goes on in his head. 

“We shouldn’t fight over stupid things, we’re here to have a nice evening just like everyone else. Let’s not spoil it for everyone else, okay?” You’re sure it’s pretty clear that you don’t want to argue. All he hears is you making fun of him. 

But Kirishima's eyes are on him, as well as Mina's. They've done well taming his temper and putting out the fire, he's not going to shit on their work.

So he just rolls his eyes and nods, doesn't even spare you a glance. You wait for him to burst, show his teeth and bite. But like before, Katsuki just shrugs, turning back around and giving you his back. 

It takes you a second to process his reaction, surely there's more to say. But that's all you get. "Oh- okay. Fine, I guess." Mina gives you a sympathetic smile. She's on his side, but she likes you. 

There are no sides. But there are. 

The silence is replaced by distant chattery, and you're pulled back to reality. It's dumb, you tell yourself, to wait for him to lose it. Mean. After all, this is better. Healthier. 

But it just doesn't feel like him. And it doesn't feel like you. A sudden urge to cry settles on your throat and you have to excuse yourself back to where your friends are. The weird interaction plays in your head on repeat, an inescapable loop of shameless self-boycotting. You’re young again, and he’s too- which means he’s not nice, and he doesn’t like you.

-

Dinner is over and most guests have already left, except for Shouto’s close friends and family. Some of you have decided to stay and help him tidy up, which translates to: Bakugou, Momo, Kirishima and you will be doing the dishes, vacuuming the floors and packing all the leftovers in different containers- while Mina, Kaminari, Sero and Shouto play Mario Kart in the living room. Ochako and Tsuyu keep you company in the kitchen, watching you load the dishwasher. Momo comes and goes, taking stuff from one room to another and bringing you new dirty bowls every now and then. At some point Bakugou shows up with glasses piled up on each hand, placing them on the sink and looking down at the space left on the machine. You open your mouth to comment on the Todoroki’s new acquisition. Fuyumi was the one who took the initiative after inviting her friends over for a nice vacation, only to find months old dishes with fluffy mold on them covering the counter. Shouto’s doing, of course. But when you turn around to laugh at his outraged expression you realize he’s gone. Ochako and Tsuyu stare at you, and before you can stop them, they go on listing different ways to make him suffer. 

“It’s fine, what I said earlier must have bothered him. The whole hero thing. And we haven’t talked in months so it’s not as easy as to simply fall back into friendly territory." Bakugou wouldn't want that, to be just friends, though the just in that affirmation has always made your heart ache. Why isn't it enough? "It was dumb I shouldn’t have expected him to just laugh and be fine with it.” You don’t want to justify his behavior, especially when it’s your friends on the hearing end. They already hate his guts, so no matter how hard you try to explain this is the result of both your mistakes, they’ll still want his head on a stick. “He’s not even mad, really. We’re both just hurt, and pretending nothing happened is not gonna make it all better.”

Tsuyu seems to actually be listening, maybe even considering your point. But Ochako, oh dear lord. You’d rather not know what she thinks. 

Midnight comes around and Momo takes out the heavy artillery. 

“Who wants chamomile? This one has cinnamon too and I bet it’ll go good with honey. So, Bakugou? This sounds like you.” 

You take strawberry tea with a dash of milk, her expensive herbs so comforting and soul cleansing. Maybe it’s a mind trick, how they come in pretty bags and are all neatly placed in a wooden box. So delicate. Convincing you they have the solution to all your problems.

Twenty minutes into this late-night snacking session, you realize the seating arrangements are quite similar to the ones you fell into last summer. You’re nestle on the couch between Kaminari and Kirishima, with Ochako by your feet (now with the addition of Tsuyu between her legs, resting her head on her chest). Shouto and Momo sit across from each other on the big, royal-like armchairs, while Sero, Bakugou and Mina sit on the floor (on the other side of the coffee table, far from Uraraka’s threatening stare). The only ones missing are Jirou and Izuku, who is actually Deku tonight. Your mind travels down that road again. Japan’s number ten hero, up in the charts with the big fish. Shouto came in seventeenth place this week, and Momo is two numbers up. Still, they’re not half as known as Deku, the rumored to be new symbol of piece- with his blinding smile and shiny future ahead. Your eyes find Shouto’s, and he looks fine. It’s not the first time it happens, Izuku hasn’t been here for his past two birthdays and keeps on missing out on important dates. But your friend isn’t much a quality time person, leaning onto words of affirmation and physical touch kinda lover. Still, it must be hard, you think. 

Bakugou’s placement is unknown to you, has been ever since he moved abroad. Why would you check? It doesn’t affect you anymore. 

“So… I heard Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is doing well out there with the foreigners.” Kaminari’s teasing tone disrupts your peace, as usual. He always picks on him for his high school hero name, though he changed it to just Dynamight a few years back. You were the only other human who was able to mention it and leave to tell the tale.

Bakugou growls.

“Did you break any laws yet? Maybe the governor’s building?” Another reference to his early hero days, when he was reckless and unprofessional. His baby face appeared on the news every week, and you would take a pic of his scowl live on tv! to print it out and add it to your Dynamight cork board. Days without incidents: 5 0.

“It’s actually going pretty well. I mean, they don't exactly love me out there, but I don't really like them either, so.” You expect him to stop there, though it’s his friends asking he’s never one to open up much. “I'm sort of friends with this one hero, has a cool quirk similar to Eiji’s so we can train without worrying much about his face blowing off." There’s a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. 

And you remember. This guy must be the one you know as Kento, big buff dude with scales for skin. “Oh! The guy with the orange cat, right?” You’re suddenly excited. Katsuki had tried many times to befriend him, but every day he’d call you to tell you about a new embarrassing exchange.

“I swear every time I gather courage to speak to him someone else comes barging in! And I don’t want to text him, I see him every day and we’re gym buddies. I have plenty of chances to ask him to hang out.” 

“You sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, ‘Ki.” You giggle. 

“Shut up.” You can hear him sigh over the phone, he’s probably running his hands down his face, skin turning red. “He has an orange cat, and he bought him a Dynamight hat to piss me off. How doesn’t that make us friends already? Yet he never asks me out to lunch, or texts me to go train together, it’s all just coincidence!” 

He had been so upset back then, rummaging his head for the perfect plan to befriend this man. And he had finally done it. 

Without looking your way, Katsuki answers and awkward “Uh yeah, anyway so-” and keeps on talking about his new friend. It throws you off a bit, smile fading quickly as your hands search for your phone. You open three different apps, pretending nothing happened and trying to gain back the confidence he stripped from you. He’s hurt, you repeat in your head, mostly to make yourself feel better.

“-and I finally got the hang of that last move, I just gotta be fast enough to activate my quirk a second before throwing the punch.”

“Oh! I saw it on a video, I think. You were fighting some kind of hybrid villain, right?” He had told you about that move, too. Maybe you didn’t keep track of his name, escalating the charts, but you did check his city’s online newspaper every few weeks. 

All he gives you is a quick glance and a mhm. And that’s all you need really. Okay, got it. 

You shuffle in your seat, uncomfortable. Nose scrunched up, fake smile wavering as you fight to keep the tears inside. You bury your face on your screen once again, ending up in the notes app like a fucking loser. There’s an acid, burning sensation at the top of your stomach, building its way up your esophagus. He looks so cool, so big and happy talking about his new life and the new, super awesome people in it. He’s happy, but something about his happiness feels bitter to you, rotten. You’re not sure how much of it is true, but you can’t condemn him to a miserable life just because of who he is. He’s not crying over the phone, not even mentioning the orange cat or the old lady from the ice cream shop down his street. You hate to think he’s leaving all the little details out of the story because you might interrupt him again, disturbing his ideal life. And you can’t even blame him, it was you who cut him off in the first place, so he has every right to put some distance between you two. Maybe he has changed. Maybe this time he is fine. And happy. Without you. 

And then you just can’t take it anymore, how he smiles that wide grin, a loud laugh erupting from the depths of his throat and filling the room with his oh so characteristic pride. 

Ochako shares a glance with Shouto as they notice you getting up and heading to the bathroom. She moves to follow you, but her friend stops her, shaking his head- leave her alone. He’ll check up on you if needed. 

Minutes go by and there’s still no sign of you. Shouto gets up and slithers his way out of the room, unseen. Ochako’s face starts to burn, anger taking over her as she’s forced to watch your friends gawk at Bakugou’s stupid fight with a oh so dangerous! villain. Fucking idiot. 

-

After ten minutes inside the bathroom, you begin to panic. The tears won’t stop coming, and what was supposed to be a quick emotional dump has turned into an embarrassing, sad, full-on breakdown. Your bottom lip quivers and you’re very close to letting an audible cry out. Just then, the door slides open, revealing a stone faced Shouto. Then his mouth twists in an upward, displeasured mock. He doesn’t like seeing you cry, especially when it’s over his very stupid friend. Without emitting a word, he stands in front of you, towering over your body as you sit on the lidded toilet with your elbows resting on your knees. 

“I’m fine.” You lie.

Sniff.

“I can see that.” His monotone voice holds a unique humor only meant for someone who truly understands him. 

It stirs the beginning of a laugh, but you’re too busy licking at the stray tears reaching your lips. Still, you think of him fondly. Little, emotionally constipated fifteen-year-old Shouto would have turned around and left you to drown in your sorrow. Yet here he is, all grown up and brave enough to face someone else’s pain without panicking. 

“You should tell me what’s wrong, then I’ll see what I can do.” Sweet, caring Shouto.

Using your left hand to wipe your face, you take a second to respond, turning your body to the side to grab some toilet paper.

“It’s okay Shouto, you can’t help with this.” Your makeup is probably ruined, mascara running down your face and making you look like a clown. You’re in full costume now!

“I can hug you.” 

He’s not the best with words, would rather hear them than say them out loud. But that’s exactly why he’s good when needed, taking his time choosing the perfect set of consonants and vowels. Your friend is right, he can hug you. He doesn’t like it very much, but he will do it for you (because he can and it will make you feel better, without hurting him in any way, only making him slightly uncomfortable). And maybe you feel too brave, overestimating your emotional strength and giving in. But when his arms wrap around your back and pull you in, one hand resting at the back of your neck and stroking your hair, you break down again. 

You can feel his body tense as you snap, holding him tightly and pressing your face against his lower belly. 

“I-It’s just- He’s so-” You say between hiccups. “It hurts Sho, a-and he’s so pretty a-and I- just” 

He doesn’t interrupt you, doesn’t lie and tell you it’s okay, that you’ll get over him because he’s a dick and you’re perfect. That you deserve much better, he’ll come back running in a week! He doesn’t say any of that, because he doesn’t believe it. And maybe that hurts even more, truly realizing he won’t come back even though you do need him. Even if he does need you as well. 

“He’s so happy! A-nd I want- I want him to be happy! But he just- he won’t even loo-look at me!” You let go to grab a handful of toilet paper and blow your nose. Shouto is too nice to have your boogers all over his perfect dress shirt. “I just want to at least- hic - be his friend! That’s all i ask! T-to have a nice c-chat, I can tell him about my life- I work with hi-is parents! His mom loves me!” It doesn’t make any sense what you’re saying, but he can picture an image of what you’re getting at. “Four years, we dated for four years!” More boogers. “A-and now he won’t say hi! No hello, how are you!” You hold your head in your hands, squishing your cheeks in a lame attempt to get your shit together. But your eyes are blurry, and your nose is red. “A-nd it’s all my-y fault” It comes out mixed with a sob, it’s ugly and makes Shouto want to cry too.

He doesn’t take sides, because Bakugou is his friend too. But you’ve been here longer, you know him better and he himself is also in love with an idiot. Shouto knows what it is like to trust someone with your heart and decide they’ll be in charge of it, forever. If Izuku ever- If he even thought of leaving him, of saying goodbye and never talk to him again. He has to take a deep breath and clear his head, that is not happening and it’s not smart of him to join you in this delusion. You need him. Even if it means he’ll have to kick some blonde ass.

-

“Here, take these to the kitchen please.” Momo hands him a tray with all the used cups, including your half empty one. 

You had left a while ago, with Todoroki (of all people) trailing behind. Don’t do this to yourself. Bakugou agreed to come tonight because it was an invitation from his friend, a very busy one he hadn’t seen in over a year. Your presence wasn’t an obstacle big enough to ruin his night. But as he places the metal tray on top of the kitchen counter his mind travels back to your kicked puppy face, legs curled up against your chest and shiny eyes covered in something unbearably sad. He had been rude. He could see it in Mina's not so subtle, deep sighs and Ochako’s knuckle cracking. He’s been behaving like that all evening, pushing you away and ignoring you for the sake of his own well-being. There was a time in high school, after the war and just before he and Deku became friends again, when he had behaved similarly. He felt guilty, so horribly guilty, that he decided to push him away- to focus on bettering himself, he had said. But everyone knew he just couldn’t face the nerd’s forgiving smile and shiny eyes, ready to talk to him, ready to be friends again. And you had done the same, not so forgiving and not so shiny, but ready to forget. The very one thing he could never do.

On his way back to the living room, he decides to take a detour, a wrong turn that leads him to the bathroom you had run to half an hour ago. Shouto is in there with you. His steps grow quicker, cursing the rich for such large, useless corridors, and his mind as well, for making him doubt his friend’s loyalty. He’s in love with shitty Deku, he’s gay. But you’re you, perfect and lovable. And Bakugou is an irrational, jealous man.

When he (finally) reaches your location, his hands in fists by his sides, it takes him an embarrassing amount of strength to knock on the door. He only takes notice of your crying once it comes to a halt- forced, as if you’re trying to patch up a dam with hello kitty stickers.

The door slides open and Todoroki’s tall frame hides you from his prying eyes.

And maybe it’s his crazy mind playing tricks on him, but he swears he looks mad, straightening his stand to seem bigger- just like he had done during dinner.

“Bakugou.” He acknowledges his presence with a sour tone (he’s ready to punch him in the teeth, but Bakugou doesn’t know it.)

“Let me talk to her.” Without waiting for an answer, he moves to push past his slender body, only to be met with an unmoving brick wall, iron grip on the door separating him from you. 

“She doesn’t want to see you right now. Talk later or tell me what you wanna say, I promise I’ll give the message once she feels better.” Because she trusts you, not me? Because you stayed and I left? He doesn’t really say (or think) any of that, and Bakugou knows it.

Still- “Todoroki, fucking move.” He doesn’t yell, because he knows Todoroki and he recognizes that stare. He’s being serious. “Give me ten minutes, go help the others and I’ll be right back.”

The lightness in his words make Shouto’s stomach twist. As if ten minutes were enough to fix the damage he’s done. 

“Bakugou, I'm not gonna leave her. She’s my friend!” As if he’d let him hurt you again.

“She’s my friend too!” He's mad but his eyes are watery, tears threatening to fall. For a second Shouto considers it, giving him one last chance.

But it’s not his decision to make, and he’s already promised he’ll keep you safe. “It doesn’t look like it.” Todoroki mumbles under his breath as he turns around and reaches for the door.

Bakugou doesn’t move to stop him, just watches him go back into the bathroom and close the door right on his face.

-

The next time you see him he's sitting on the sidewalk, right across from your apartment entrance. Bakugou has his fingers locked behind his neck, eyes facing the pavement and big suitcase by his side. You consider turning around and pretend you never saw him, playing dumb like you always do and fleeting. He's scary when he's not mad, his heart open and so vulnerable it burns.

But you know it's not fair, it's not easy to get him this way. So you stay, clearing your throat to get his attention and waiting for the wave to crash into you.

"Hey, sorry to show up like this." Red eyes scan your face for any sign of rejection, any reason for him to stop.

You nibble on your lip, ripping apart the surface layer of dried skin.

Hm.

"I-I wanted to say sorry, for what happened during Christmas." He swallows. "It- I was mean, thought I could see you and be fine but, I guess I'm still a bit of a bitch."

Bakugou rarely says sorry, you're always temped to accept his apologies when they happen.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Though you do want him to, worry about it. About you. You want him to try, but you can't ask it of him.

"No, it's not. I made you cry, and now Shouto is mad at me- as he should be, honestly, I acted like such a dick-" A sigh interrupts his rant, shaky and genuine.

You stay silent, both staring at the ground and waiting for the other to deliver the final punch. It's funny, how you always seem to end up stuck in the same situation, over and over again. Knowing you have to let go of each other, but not finding the strength to do so.

"You're leaving today?" You jut out your lips and point at his suitcase. Still the same you, with the same traits. Bakugou wants to smile, eyes fixed on your face, the familiar sight now a sting in his guts. How could he hate you?

"Yeah, I'm a bit late actually but- they can wait."

Hm.

People can always wait when it comes to Bakugou Katsuki. If he asked, you'd do it too.

"Well, I just- guess that's it." Of course it is.

Too close to be friends.

Too hurt to be lovers.

"Have a safe flight."

Back to strangers again.

5.(bittersweet)

The charity event takes place in the Todoroki mansion, soon to be turned into a museum filled with Endeavor’s accomplishments. You’re sure Shouto is out there somewhere, maybe standing by the koi ponds and staring off into the water, counting the minutes for it all to be over. So you don’t bother looking for him, it’s to no use trying to snap him out of his trance when he’s like this. 

Though you’re no hero, it’s not uncommon for support engineers to be invited alongside them- especially when you’re friends with the ones up in the charts. The media has gotten used to your face by now, spreading dating rumors here and there that you never address and if you’re lucky promoting your work (how cool they are, how hot the heroes look).

You spot his navy blue suit next to Hawks, his loud laugh impossible to miss. There’s at least four young heroes surrounding them, and it’s surprising to see Bakugou isn’t frowning or shooing them away with a growl. Then you remember that’s not Bakugou, it’s Dynamight. The hero has climbed the charts along with his friends after coming back home, he got a PR team and finally started working on his image. You see his face on plastic cups and children’s lunch boxes, makeshift costumes of his own hero suit crowding the streets every time he wins a fight against a big villain. Dynamight didn’t do well outside of Japan, coming back home after two years, and still isn’t very welcomed out there. But in here? He’s a God. Talks to the press however he pleases but has his own favorite reporters, the ones he trusts will tell the story right- the same ones that get him to do a photoshoot or play a question game with his fans, silly stuff you never thought you’d see him doing. His image has been humanized, brought down to earth for mortals to touch and admire from up close. In your opinion, he’s too close. Too bright at first. You’d like to say you’ve gotten used to it, because what else could you do? Still it’s pathetic, how your stomach twists everytime his face shows up in the big billboard right in front of your balcony, a few buildings away. He doesn’t smile, but he grins, proudly. It’s not quite the same smile you knew, but it’s close enough to hurt. 

He’s single, no kids, no wife. You try not to think about it because it makes you happy, and it shouldn’t make you happy. It doesn’t mean anything. There have been rumors about him and other heroes, but Shouto has always been quick to point out their falsehood- though you never ask him, it’s always him who brings up the subject. Dynamight and Shouto are seen together pretty often, wearing merch of each other and fighting for the fourth place, making sure to catch the awfulest villains they can find and showing off while they’re at it. Neither of them are known for their charisma, unlike Deku who has won the hearts of every civilian in Japan, but they try. 

Still, Shouto and Katsuki are not that close, opting for keeping their private lives separated and secluding to their friend groups. But they do see each other from time to time, at birthday parties and weddings- their hero skins long forgotten. You know they’d be closer if it weren’t for you, and it fills you with guilt every time you see them together. It’s crystal clear how much of Katsuki has stuck to Shouto, you see it in his humor, in his grin, and there’d be more if you hadn’t messed with each other’s hearts. 

And you. You’re closer to Katsuki than your friend is, or will ever be.

After years of working for his parents you’ve accepted his luring presence in the workshop, which then turned to his shadow walking down the office floors halls. You’ve made sure to figure out a way to avoid him, feigning innocence when you enter Mitsuki’s office- I brought you coffee! How is the winter collection going? -, eyes roaming her calendar in search of his name. She knows, and you know because after the third time she started highlighting his visits in orange (for office visits) and green (suit try ons). During orange days you go down to the workshop, taking the opportunity to teach your youngest engineers a trick or two, pretending you’re actually there for them and not for the sake of your teary eyes. Green days are even easier, you’re a big figure in the Bakugou’s industry so there’s no need for you to get your hands dirty with grease, staying within the confines of your private office and checking out projects that need your approval to get started. Dynamight’s suit is one you have memorized by now, always coming in with a detail to fix or a weapon to improve, so you make sure to get the documents sent directly to you- if they were to fall on someone else’s hands they could do it wrong, requiring your assistance later on during the fitting process and that’s an interaction you can’t afford to have. 

Bakugou knows it’s you who patches him up (or his suit, but he likes to think he’s one with it). Still he always asks who’s responsible for the new design, whose idea it was to improve the safety measures he had foregone last time. And the answer is always the same. In some way he feels cared for, it’s a bitter sensation because it’s directly linked up to you. Yet he can’t bring himself to ask for a different person. You may have broken his heart, losing his trust just like he did with yours, but he knows you won’t do the same to Dynamight- you rarely make mistakes, and you certainly won’t make the same mistake twice. Sometimes he finds himself wishing you did. He stands still as your freshman fastens the grenades at his wrists, hopefully looking out the workshop window that lets the light of the hall spill in, waiting to see your face. It never happens, he knows you hide in your office whenever he enters the building, and run down to the machines when he calls for a meeting with his team. That last one makes him lose his marbles. He’s had more than enough arguments with his parents, who let you do as you please and take cover under their wings. You haven’t shown up to a single one of those meetings, though you should be there as his designated engineer. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of it, of his team. 

“Katsuki, has she ever messed up your suit? Huh? No, she hasn’t, so quit your whining and let our colleague do her work. It’s not her fault she’s busy! If she ever has time for your meetings she will be there.” 

His mom is your number one defender, and he can’t comprehend why. Maybe she’s still mad at him for leaving all those years back (or maybe she’s found in you what she wasn’t allowed to love in him). It’s a dangerous thought, one that doesn’t deserve the time and effort to be dissected and put up for study. He knows where it’s rooted and that’s enough. 

Mitsuki never mentions your name, only refers to you as their “colleage” and it drives him insane. But he knows it’s already a lost fight, not worth getting his hands dirty for. 

Katsuki hates any sort of event. It doesn’t matter if it’s for charity, or if it’ll improve his image- this is not what he signed up for, he should be out there fighting crime. He can feel his manager’s eyes digging into his back, analazying his stand and the tone of his voice as he interacts with the rookies. There’s flashes going off in the distance and- how the hell is Hawks so good at this? 

You’re watching too, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to restrain himself from going over and talk to you. It’s been like this for years now, his chest flooding with the urge to say all those things he didn’t say back then and overlapping with what he actually wants to say to you right now. How pretty you look, how much he liked the suit’s latest upgrade. Katsuki has questions that die half way up his throat, choking him to exhaustion. How have you been? Do you still hate him? Are you seeing anyone? Are your parents okay?

His thorax expands and keeps the air inside for a few seconds, slowly exhaling. Katsuki can see you from the corner of his eye, chatting with a waitress, probably waiting for Shouto to come out of his sulk room. His friend hates these events even more than he himself does, but he can’t find pity for Shouto when you’re left all alone in a crowded space.

Dynamite excuses himself and moves out of the group of people circling him, sending Hawks a knowing look- I need a minute. The hybrid is quick to understand, eyes flying to your form and back to Bakugou, eyebrows rising in warning, teasingly. 

The bulky hero makes his way towards you, but you tell yourself he’s going somewhere else. Katsuki wouldn’t dare feed the rumors, he wouldn’t-

Before you can finish that thought, the host gets up on stage and greets the guests. Pro Hero Dynamight stops in his tracks, just a few steps from you. The soury feeling makes him snort, always so close but never quite enough. 

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” A Present Mic knock off screams into the microphone and half the crowd cover their ears. “As you all know, this is a very special day, for today we’re putting down our weapons and raising our wallets in collaboration to Tokio’s Children’s Hospital!” 

Some laugh, some don’t. Bakugou shifts in place, right hand holding a glass of champagne his lips haven’t touched all night. Meanwhile, you’re downing the golden liquid like it’s water, hands clutched over a purse he guesses is brand new, and probably empty (save for your phone). These things always get your nerves on edge, taking care of who you are seen interacting with- mostly criticizing hero suits from your seat amongst your coworkers. But today you’re alone, the only other designers present are part of the rival team and it wouldn’t be good for the Bakugou’s to have their head engineer seen fraternizing with the enemy. 

And Bakugou himself would never approach you in any social situation, it’s a silent agreement between you two that’s been going on for ages. He doesn’t come close, and you stay put, each of you minding your own business. Still that doesn’t stop him from sending you emails meant for his team, because you are part of- 

Katsuki sighs, a heavy sigh. He’s getting tired of your limits, of you running away and avoiding any sort of confrontation involving him. He’s tired of sitting back and giving you space, would rather not see you ever again at all instead of catching glimpses of you around the office, down at the workshop, here at events and galas- with your pretty dresses, fresh face of make up, nervous fingers tapping on your thighs. 

Bakugou Katsuki would never come near you, because he can’t. But Dynamight, basically your boss, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. 

“He’s a bit of an idiot, don’t you think?” His voice is low, whispered, straddling you and sending you forwards, stumbling over your own steps. 

The heroes surrounding you, the few that stayed at the back ignoring the host’s silly jokes, turn to look at you and some even offer their steady hand. You mumble out a string of apologies, eyes down avoiding red ambers. Bakugou-Dynamight swallows, straightents his back and takes a step closer. He’s head to shoulder with you, strong jawline hovering over your form. 

“Why are you so jumpy?”

“Why are you talking to me?” He scoffs at your answer, moody stare making it’s way to his face. 

“Because you’re Dynamight’s support engineer, and he has to talk to you about his suit.” The third person speech makes him cringe, the glass in hand suddenly too inviting.

“Well, Mr. Dynamite can send me an email once he gets home.” You greet your teeth, scowling him for his trespassing.

Once you''ve regained your balance, hands going over your dress to smooth out ny wrinkle, you take a minute to look up at him.

“Bakugou I thought we were on the same page here.”

He rolls his eyes at that, though it’s the first time he’s heard you call for him in so long, it doesn’t sound right. Because his father is a Bakugou, and his mother is too. You have to pronounce that word everytime someone asks you who you work for, what’s the name of the company. It no longer holds the same meaning, you’re not referring to him. 

“Fuck off, you know we’ve never been on the same page.” He’s ruining it, his chance at mending things. Though he’s not so sure that’s what he wanted in the first place. For once in his life he has no plan.

“You’re the one who came up to me, you fuck off!”

“That’s not- I just wanted to talk, like normal people. Can’t we do that?” He’s greeting his teeth too, looking ahead and jaw clenching. 

It’s surprising, seeing him making the first move, to be him the one asking to talk. “So what, you want to be friends now?”

“Fuck no.” It’s an accident, he doesn’t mean to spit it out like that, to refuse your hand like it’s burning hot. But it’s the truth, he can’t do it, not with you.

You’re silent, staring as his mask falls off. For someone used to facing villains all day he sure as hell isn’t as brave as he thinks he is. 

“Should’ve known, you still don’t have the balls to do it.” 

Again you’re young and stupid, waiting for him to start a fight you can win. 

“I thought that was a given.” Dynamight turns to look at you in all his handsome glory, blonde locks cut short and emerald green studs decorating his earlobes. And then his words sink down. 

Your frowns break at the same time, anger turning into giggles you try to fight back. 

“Can’t believe you’re doing trans jokes now.” It’s not a critic, it’s impressive how much he’s grown and how much confidence he’s gained over time. 

“Yeah, well. The fans love it, and I gotta admit it feels good.” You can tell. 

Pro Hero Dynamight didn’t really come out, at least not like other heroes do. One day he simply appeared on tv, sitting on Red Riot’s shoulders as they marched alongside their friends during pride, a pink, blue and white flag tied to his neck. His PR team jumped for his head, begging him to go out on interviews and explain what that was all about. The Bakugou’s building entrance had been flooded with reporters for days, waiting for the hero to show up to a suit try on or trying to catch him leaving. But he had paid them no mind, never really addressing the “issue”. Some were disappointed, because their favorite hero wasn’t speaking up and using his voice to reach millions of people and fight against transphobes, threatening to cancel him on social media and showing up in his manager’s nightmares. Others understood.

It took a whole year for it all to die down, and one more for the public to stop referring to him as the trans hero, going back to his actual hero name. You’d wanted to reach out to him back then, but Katsuki had his friends and you had your own problems.

Now seeing where he is, how far he’s come, it fills you up with pride. A bit of an uncomfortable feeling, somewhat forbidden but so familiar. 

“That’s-that’s great, I’m happy for you.” 

It comes out shaky, your voice betraying you. 

Dynamight hums, licking his lips and pursing them together. Thinking. 

“Are you- How are you doing? I mean, you seem fine but- I don’t know.” He’s cute when he gets awkward, even cuter if he stutters (but that rarely happens).

The crowd begins to move away from the stage, dissipating through the room and falling back into pleasant chatter. 

“Yes- Yes I’m fine, I’m good.”

“Good, good.” 

You stare at him and he stares back, more questions burning at the tip of your tongue. Do you miss me? Can we still be friends? But you already know the answer, and it’s clear things won’t work out. 

“I’m leaving for the U.S next week.” You know, Mitsuki won’t stop crying about it. “Just for a month but, yeah…” 

You hum and nod, and look down at your hands holding on to your stupid purse. No it wouldn’t work out. 

Tips would be of great help! Thank you very much for the support. (ko-fi)

(✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾ can wait for that date ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 1 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy

❥ A/N: hello!! I compiled the first two drabbles of this series into one fic! Im hoping to continue the fics in the future :) feedback is always appreciated!!

It's when he brings you flowers for the third time that you become a little suspicious of his intentions.

"He likes you," your coworker whispers as he leaves. "When are you gonna give him the chance?"

You shrug, putting the flowers on the counter by the register, rearranging them a bit.

"I think he's just trying to be nice."

"Why in the world would he keep bringing you flowers if he wasn't interested in you?" She grabs your shoulder, pulling you to face her. "The next time he comes in, just ask him how he feels. Maybe he'll be more direct and tell you how he feels."

Two days later, he's back, carrying a red bag. He approaches the counter, opposite hand in his pocket.

"The usual?" your coworker asks, but he's not looking at her, staring at you across the room, watching you steam milk. You pour the milk in a paper cup, placing down the pitcher and finally making eye contact with him. The two of you stare at each other, your coworker glancing back and forth before approaching you.

"Let me take over," she says, taking the cup from you and putting on a lid. She leans in to whisper. "Ask him."

You glance at her before looking back at him, running your hands over your apron, approaching the register where he stands.

"The usual?" you ask, and he nods. You click on the screen, bringing up his order. "Anything else?"

"What's your favorite drink?"

You twist your lip, looking up in thought.

"It's a little complicated."

"Tell me."

You take a deep breath.

"Well, I like to get two ristretto shots over ice, add two blue sugars, sometimes I add toffeenut or white mocha, and then I add oatmilk. Or soy, if I want some protein."

He hums.

"One of those too."

You pause, tilting your head quizzically before reaching towards the register.

"What size?"

"Whatever size you get."

You squint in thought, typing in the order. You give him the total, let him insert his credit card, and grab the cups you need. You make his order quickly, placing it at the other end of the counter where he now stands. You work on the second drink, placing it in front of him a minute later. He doesn't move for either drink.

"Is... there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah." He pushes the second drink back towards you. "Drink this for me."

"I—"

"And take this." He places the red bag on the counter next to the drink.

"Uh... what is it?" He nods towards the bag.

"Open it."

You hesitate, sliding the bag towards you and glancing inside.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, you think as you reach in and take out a heavy box wrapped in plastic.

"Perfect by Marc Jacobs?" you ask in a whisper. You glance up at him and he's just staring at you, an intense look in his eye. You swallow, peeling off the plastic and opening the box. You pull out the bottle, removing the cap and sniffing.

"Smells nice." You put the cap back on and look at him again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

You both stand there silently for a moment before you put the perfume back in the box.

"Did you get this for me because I smell?"

His eyes widen, his hands raised.

"I didn't—"

He stops when you smile and laugh, tossing the plastic in the trash.

"I'm just messing with ya." You see his shoulders loosen as he lowers his arms, a smirk creeping up on his lips.

"Funny."

You move the bag behind the counter, making sure there wasn't a line before returning to him.

"Do you usually buy perfume for girls?"

"No," he replies quickly, finally taking his drink. "Just you."

You hum, grabbing the drink he bought for you.

"Why?"

He swallows his drink, staring at you the whole time.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Um... no, not really."

He scoffs, putting his cup down.

"The flowers, the perfume... what do you think it means?"

"Uh..." You glance at your coworker who's just leaning against the counter, smiling as she watches the two of you. "I, um... I thought you were just trying to be nice."

"You think buying perfume for a stranger is 'trying to be nice'?"

"I don't know," you reply defensively. "I just don't see why else you would give me stuff."

He leans his hands against the counter, bringing his eyes down to your level.

"You really can't think of any reason why someone would bring you flowers and perfume?"

You pause, then shrug, pouting at him. He sighs, hanging his head before standing up straight, grabbing his cup.

"Guess I'll have to try harder next time."

You scrunch your eyebrows as he starts walking away.

"Try what next time?" He doesn't answer, opening the front door. "Try what next time?" you yell after him, but he's already gone, taking a right and walking down the street.

You're dumbstruck. Your coworker starts squealing and jogs to you.

"Oh my god, the tension was so thick I could cut it with a knife!" She giggles and bounces. "I can't believe my work bestie is being pursued by a guy like that!"

"He's not pursuing me." She groans, throwing her head back.

"Alright, sure, keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile he'll keep bringing you flowers and then it'll be chocolate and jewelery and–"

You zone out, not paying attention. You glance at the drink he bought for you, wondering.

"He's coming!" your coworker whispers to you, bouncing for a moment before regaining her composure as he walked through the door. He approaches the counter, glancing at her before staring at you. He's carrying a bouquet of roses and a red box wrapped with a white bow.

"You're here for her, right?" she asks, pointing at you. He nods, and she turns, giving you two thumbs up as she walks past you, moving to the other side of the coffee bar. You pause, unsure, but eventually make your way to the register.

"Your usual?" you ask, but he shakes his head.

"Not today." He hands out the flowers and box. "For you."

"I..." You don't know what to say, so you just take the gifts, giving an awkward smile. "Thank you...?"

He nods towards the box.

"Open it."

You try not to show how nervous you are, putting down the roses on the counter. You peel the white ribbon from the box, taking off the red lid.

"Holy fuck?" you whisper, putting down the lid and pulling out a string of pearls. "What is this?"

"They're pearls."

"Yeah, I can see that, but why are you giving them to me?"

"Do you not like them?"

"No, I do like pearls, but–" You put the pearls back in the box, staring up at him. "Why are you giving them to me?"

"So you can wear them."

You roll your eyes.

"What? No, really? I thought I was supposed to eat them."

He smiles.

"You're funny. I like that."

You sigh, putting the lid back on the box, setting it down on the counter.

"Look, you've been really nice, but I don't think this is appropriate."

He glares.

"Why?"

"Well," you start, fiddling with your fingers, "I don't think your girlfriend would like you giving me all these things."

"I don't have a girlfriend." You blink.

"Well, I don't think your boyfriend would—"

He laughs, deep and gruff. It makes your stomach flip in the best way.

"I'm not into men."

"Then... well, why would you—"

"Look," he starts, leaning against the counter. "I want you to wear those pearls. I want you to wear the perfume I got you too. I want you to wear them to dinner with me."

Your cheeks burn. You swallow hard.

"W-Why do you want to have dinner with me?"

"You'll see." He stands up, reaching his hand out. "May I see your phone?"

You hesitate, but reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and handing it to him. He takes it gently—holy fuck his hands are big—and taps at the screen for a little while. He hands the phone back to you, smirking at you. You read the screen, seeing his phone number and contact name: Future Husband 💕.

You sputter, wondering if your face could burn any hotter as you look up at him.

"Send me your address: I'll pick you up on Friday at seven."

Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving the coffee shop. Your coworker squeals behind you.

"Oh my god, girl! I am totally living vicariously through you."

You huff, changing his phone contact to something more sensible.

Buff Guy

My man so pretty (≧◡≦)(≧◡≦) ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

gaz study